time in houred forms chasing me

notebooks are gods meant to send you far away, im tired of spinning around in circles and making myself sick, i just want to stand still for a while, every road seems to lead to a dead end, i close my eyes and pretend i smile, reality is that which cannot be touched, its sad when you can only find love in a dream, i might as well be naked and vulnerable, pouring my soul onto floors, God likes me this way, i can count the decent women in one hand without lifting a finger, we really f*ck each other up, i laugh to make sense of it all, what else can you do? but stay in bed til the sun goes down, my head burns and the trees mean so much more after three oclock, will i be dust too? or the shade on someones face? id rather be destroyed, after all, what is something that cannot be destroyed? nothing, i lay around and wait for answers to wake me up, and make wishes, if i could write in the dark id never go outside, dont i make you smile? dream after dream and i still havent seen you there once, not even magic will work this time, i just want to create a world where a child can still laugh and play and be happy, but right now smiles make me sick, these walls are more soothing than your softest kiss, i never want to be a penny, tomorrow is just an infinite repeat of today, a word to fool the fools and keep them from insanity, this fool isnt fooled, aside from God i fear myself the most, they said it was going to be a sunny day, i still dont know what they meant by that, i drift in and out and realize ive always been alone, the clouds are quiet with me and i am finally that sky ive tried so hard to be, i dont want to pay the consequences of leading a meaningless life, i dont want to die someday, far away, on some bed, in some room, with a window, if you dont understand me when i whisper, you wont understand me when i shout, dont f*ck with sad poets, you will surely be destroyed, i dont wage wars, im a quiet thinker, i win everytime, dont start fires you cant put out, dont climb up trees you cant get down from, even though i dont understand them i want one, who are you to fall in love again, and at twenty one, at this rate youll be dead by twenty two, and im not going to let this turn into a love poem, im tired of those, everyone deserves more than they could ever ask for, but what do i know about anything. 11-18-01 memo Written November 20th, 2001 © on Nov 20 2001 02:36 AM PST, midnite_raver   0 • 10