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Thursday, November 10, 2011

Again and Again and Again.

I love you.

I loved you.

I love you.

And instead of finding you,

(a new you)

I turned into you.

And I was cursed-

to meet myself;

again,

and again,

and again.

And you made me hate myself;

again and again and again.

And when I finally found “you”,

it wasn’t you.

It was you.

So once again I became myself!

But by now…

I hate myself.

You love me,

Because you hate me.

And you want me- to hate myself.
But, if I hate myself I must still be you.
Then it couldn't have found you,
even though it's you.

Black Cherry.

Steel bars weighing me down.

Bringing me down

Out of this town, I think.

Out of my mind, I know.

Out of my words, I’m not so sure.

I wish I would speak slow.

Bind me, keep me on a leash

or else I’ll run away,

and if you keep me on a leash

I’ll somehow get away.

But if you didn’t care at all,

then I’d be sure to stay.

I’m addicted to the game and allergic to the same.

So I’m always sick.

Sick in the stomach and sick in the head.

Sick.

Laying in bed.

It’s sick.

Bait me, hook me

I’ll be done for sure.

Let me alone.

Find me a cure.

Espresso Something.

I’m a bird.
You’re a plane.

Peanut butter cities
Cotton candy skies,
Paper airplanes confuse me.
That why I keep you around.

Dipping my finger into my coffee
to see if it’s hot,
I breathe in the steam.
I laugh about it.

I am so cold.
The shade it cast never ended.
And it was almost like the wind would blow it’s branches off.
But I thought,
you would like it.

I don’t need dictionaries.
I don’t need anything.
Words mean a lot,
but labels don’t mean anything.
Or at least, they don’t need to.

If I’m a lemon,
then you’re a piece of toast.
But I think I’m more like a kiwi
and you’re more like fried rice.
But if one day you need lemonade,
then I can be a lemon.

I don’t want you to think it’s dumb.
Even though sometimes,
I think it’s dumb.

People learn to be people
by watching other people
who are watching other people!

Sometimes I worry I’m not quite a person yet.

People always say you’re really smart.
But I think there’s a lot I can teach you.
I think there’s a lot you don’t know.
And you don’t even know
that you don’t know.
But it’s okay because I don’t know.
And I think,
no body really knows.

I can be asleep.
I can be sitting.
I can be standing.
My hair can be wet.
I can be crying.
I can be sick.
I can be ugly.
I can be crazy.

But you know I’m crazy.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

A you

I don't love you-
like I thought i did,
when I thought I did.
I left all I loved,
all I knew-
but didn't know
for you.
And I didn't know
for you.
I hate you.
But I can't hate you,
because you're not a "you"
Nor a "he",
Nor a "she",
Hardly an "it",
Definetly not a "they",
and you're not a me.
In fact I can feel you slipping further and further away
from being a "me".
From being anywhere close
to being a "me".
I feel me.
I know me.
You're not me.
So what are you?
... but you're not a "you".
Are you?