Same idea, different words
April 04, 2002 @ 10:39 a.m.
And I thought I knew. I don't. I thought I could work through it, deal. I don't like the fourth-grade mentality of it all.
I'm tired of thinking someone I know could find this haven of mine and actually make something out of it. I'm beginning to form sentences for others, not myself.
And I struggle to keep to myself, when I feel like vomiting. My stomach heaves in revolt, maybe there's something besides this, do you suppose?
I'm finding it hard to locate the open door. I never said I was intelligent, only said that I would follow your voice if you would follow mine. You didn't come through and I was stuck, but it's my fault as much as yours.
Still waiting for that e-mail, silly boy, that will never come. And I'm still listening, trying to play your mind game while learning about you. And you told me to call, but nothing's ever temporary with me.
I don't know why you would want me knocking at your door. You seemed so adamant when I mentioned it before. Can I protest the fact that I've never seen day with you?
And maybe I'm not talking about who you think. Maybe I'm talking about myself. Maybe I'm too tired to see straight, and I want to go home and play more rhyming games with you, want to spin a little more complicated web with you.
Doesn't seem right, now does it?
And so I babble unmercilessly. I'm afraid that I'm just not the type to ever stop when it's needed most.
Damn, you smelled good. A scent I know, have dreamed of, can't place. Every time I feel it graze over me, a light kiss of something I know, it comforts me. And you make me want to appear in front of you and grin like an idiot.
These yous that I press between columns of a jerry-rigged absence are all different. I'm speaking of three in this case, mostly the other two to take my mind off the first. I suppose I should clarify. I don't feel like doing so.
The history between all of us is palpable, and I'm afraid I don't like that anymore.
Why do I ramble on about pointless misgivings, undoings and spinnings that won't make a difference, I wish you were just a little sweeter to me.
And I don't get it. Where are you? You never seem to leave until it's important. So why now? Why are you Houdini, now after being all other kinds of deceptive?
I must cut you out, cut you all out, cut you out of the heart that bleeds for you. The metric measurement standards for this are wrong; well, they certainly can't be right. You can't honestly expect me to survive with this, bend an angry fist towards the mouth that saves me.
It's just so difficult, trying to make sense out of nothing. Why do I insist upon a sign of greater things?
I'm tired of stating the same idea in different words.
<< | >>
- - March 22, 2010
always the same - July 01, 2008
b-a-n-a-n-a-s! - December 25, 2006
elementary again - October 29, 2006
I don't like you, but I love you - October 03, 2006
