2why can't I be in that one pile?
Everybody tells me
we're never gonna be inside there.
But from what my mad eyes can tell
everyones a board a ship
of some kind.
I'm not even in one
at the moment,
as much as I want to be,
I don't even dare,
step inside a ship,
that has a name for me.
I don't wanna be plastered
and thrown away,
forgotten about for centuries.
I want my name to be my own,
I want to create a universe
of my own.
Maybe someday
I'll be able to create
that bundle of energy.
But not when I'm so strung out,
like now.
So what is good and evil?
and why do I even care?
But as usual
I'll stray far away
from both sides
of the armies,
I'll meditate myself
into nothing but dust
so I can disappear
far away from choices
and trials.
"No more clutter!"
I scream as the locusts
swarm upon my face,
but I can't stop them.
Why oh why
can't I stop them?
Even more bold is the question
to questioning my purpose,
my purpose for writing.
Everywhere all over
my body cries,
not even the wind
can remove these lies.
Oh nature;
thats oh so pretty,
can't I just get lost
into some beautiful ditty?
I guess I worry a bit too much,
isn't that obvious?
My cluttered head
is so very much
out of gasoline.
Yet everyday
strangely enough
I'm strong enough
to face these perils
all by myself!
Its quite challenging
to be dressed in mud
all day long.
To continue walking on
like nothings bad at all.
Like nothings happened,
nothing bad.
Decent decieving job there,
thats been stretched
beyond repair.
Yet the legs
on my broken doll
continue to move.
Spitting out
these useless words
from my mouth,
that vibrates with hurt.
Can't I stop thinking
about my selfish needs
for more than two seconds?
Why can I just help those
who need the help?
It seems so very simple,
yet I'm at a road block,
fucking stuck
in the middle of traffic.
I growl so loudly,
begging for god,
just to spare me.
Yet he sits up there
not listening to a word.
Would killing myself
stop the pain?
I shake my head
back and forth
shaking the answer "no!"
No of course not!
This is just
your rambling thoughts,
telling you what to do.
Don't listen to these things
that come frm a demon pen!
But I pause,
at an eager moment,
lacking for a better word
to continue with,
especially near the end,
what do I do now?
I could never sum up
something like this.
But then again I underestimate
everything that I have stated,
Maybe my work will last,
or maybe it just died
the second I came inside.
My purpose tonight though,
was not to waste my time,
or your valuable space,
but to show you,
a gentle slab of paint.
Which looks to me
like one big mess
that I can't even fix.
So I'll just stand here
looking at you,
very impatiently,
I'm awaiting
your ass kissing
in hopes it won't be
something positive
that leaves your lips.
I sigh out loud;
how can I say that,
that rude remark.
I'm running out of time,
and your precious patience
that soothes me so well.
So please don't leave,
that little twitch
of a tiny brain cell
is all that I need.
That need for an ear
to scream in.
I'm being brutally honest now,
funny how I always hold back
at the beginning.
I wonder if
I'll ever come back,
to revisit these steps;
the ones I've walked up?
Oh I'm sure there will be
more days like today
for me.
But will you come back
to check on me?
Or are you too tired,
from climbing up
my agonizing steps?
I just need to know,
knowing is what keeps me
from wanting to die.
Knowing that someones there
gives me so much strength,
enough power to guide me along
down an invisible road
that will soon be my own.
A road where all roads meet,
lets hope all of the people
will come to check back on me,
right before this movie of my life
ends completely.
For if you do stay,
after the credits,
you'll see my soul disintergrate
out from the screen;
and into your bodies,
where an endless magnitude of love,
from these fragile arms,
will embrace your spirit forever,
giving you the hand you need
to pick yourself up
out of the gutters.