Please

There is so much inside
with nowhere to go
and nowhere to hide
but deeper, deeper.
I miss being known
almost as much
as I miss knowing.
Is it possible to suffocate
inside your own mind?
How about your own heart?
The next bullet
on my to do list
has a mind of its own
and I'm afraid it has a bit
of a tendency to aim
towards my overfull head
to release some tension
from the pounding, pounding
of thoughts and feelings...
secrets...those things that make me, me.
All dressed up and no where to go.
Please stop looking at me.
Please look a little deeper.
Some, please listen to me...
Please...please...
I can't scream any louder
but at best I'm still whispering.

Wait

thoughts like tumbleweeds
gather around memories sharp as cactus needles
Polaroid pictures snapped so quickly
of moments gone before the photo develops
half painted portraits and half full cups of coffee
nothing is quite the same when left unfinished
this half digested conversation doesn't sit well
and the half hearted responses are too hard to swallow
but my determination breeches all social niceties
and the bags under my eyes speak all too loudly
for the nights I've spent searching for remedies
to this fatal disease called unfinished business

Blue and Green

Its one of those days where my eyes are two different colors
and my mind is running in two opposing directions
and my intentions are consequentially unclear

As I alternate between running and falling
and I hide my head under the cover of night [in the middle of the day]
I realize its hard to see with your eyes closed
and its impossible to listen to what you refuse to hear

Why am I in the mood to love what I've lost
and pine after what could have been
running forward with your head turned back
is the surest way to fall in a ditch

What Feels Right Might Be Left

when the pieces don't fit
and the pages are missing

when the room's upside down
and the hallway is spinning

when the dots won't connect
and the lines become shady

when the questions aren't answered
and then world's far too heavy

just run away
run away
run far away

just run away
run away
run far away

No One Else Even Comes Close

Time has this silly ability to sugar coat the past
Frosting over the cracked memories making it easy to forget
that the cupcake you hold was once just a muffin
But after the frosting's been licked off
all that's left is an ugly, crumbling muffin
and you remember why you bought the frosting in the first place






So why is it that against all logic and reason I find myself craving muffins?