Sometimes, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Going through repetitive motions everyday, originality and individuality being sucked dry from my robotic routine, it’s almost as if there is no where else to go. I’m in the middle of the ocean, and all I can see is grey waters stretched past the horizon, giving off an illusion of the edge of the Earth. Sitting in a wooden boat, all by my lonesome, one oar to propel me, and scrambled thoughts cutting through my mind. These thoughts, they’re not piecing together and my elmer’s glue is just making a mess of it all. I’ve been given wings, but I can’t fly. I think I’m lost.
You raced into my mind,
crawled into my head.
Sucked my soul dry,
Left me for dead.
Feeding off my every thought,
Consuming all I’ve ever known,
I realized it’s all you wanted,
The truth chilling me to the bone.
We never could have had anything more,
No giving back the things you took,
I should have seen through your lies,
But now I get to close our book.
I thought about
The things you said.
I tried not to think too long,
To overanalyze,
To distort.
It didn’t get me far.
My racing thoughts
Antagonized my feeble nerves.
And at once I knew
This was not for me.
You’ve been charnimg,
Playing your part well.
Striking a match
To “forever”,
Forever is long gone.
____ only kissed _____ on the mouth because _____ ______ told him to do it.
I only had an inkling of the want to kiss him on the mouth because
he gave me the idea to think it.
Then the thought began to consume my mind
And it became more than just about a kiss
And more about…
Just something more.
I giggled at some of the thoughts; I think I set myself
Up for disappointment.
Why do we do that to ourselves?
Fill our heads with unattainable,
Unrealistic expectations that will be our downfall.
Then I thought about the things that I once had,
And I remembered what it was like to feel that way.
The way you’re so happy you think that you could burst.
Those aren’t bad thoughts at all.
But they’re not exactly what should be occupying my mind.
Or are they?
There’s a funny fine line between growing up
And then being grown up.
Where does one end and where does the other begin?
Oh, the things that cross my mind.
Secrets. We all have them, we all keep them, we all love them. I love them. The way I can wrap myself in them like a blanket, cocooning myself in warmth. Sometimes it’s ice. Not just my secrets, but the secrets of others. Things they tell me, things I find out about them. Terrible things. Wicked things. Splendid things. And inside my head they remain, cataloged by the thousands. They get packed in, one on top of the other, things I’m not supposed to know, things you don’t think I know. Some you confide in me, and others you don’t. Oh, but I know. It’s all here in my head. You mean to say one thing, but you’ve said something completely different, and I’ve captured it. So much more is revealed than intended, and it’s wonderful. Sometimes they want to spill out of my lips, but I quickly bite them back. Maybe for you, or maybe for me, but they never get told. I may be conceited enough to want to be the sole owner of some things, or I may be so caring that I want to hurt no one. So I let you live your life thinking I don’t know so you can have your sense of security, and I’ll carry on pretending to know only what you’d like for me to know, and like this we’ll coexist. And this is life as we know it.
Careful now, I’m not sure you meant to tell me that.