*Sweating.....

* I am stupid, I am stupid

What did I just eat?   I should wash my hands.....

I wish my boob was the same size as my other one....

Joe probably thinks the same thing...

Oh god, they are going to be back soon from the carnival!  Oh, and I left the beer in the freezer!

I am not creative at all......I am such a wannabe... that is why I can't think like..........Stephen King!  Did he get writer's block? Of course he did.... probably did a lot of coke too.... I mean, come on.  How does someone write so much! I can hardly finish a sentence  without feeling the pull... like a friggin' lead pipe is jammed between my two brain lobes... or hemispheres..whatever.... Google the crap out of everything since I never paid attention in school.... wish I would of paid attention...  So what do I write about now? Maybe I shouldn't write at all...I suck. i suck i suck i suck   SUCK  SUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK !!   I am going to drink those beers now.

When the day begins

Sunless

I think of you

Like today

Remembering

When you began to fade

I talk into the fog

Any way

I can keep loving you

My inspiration is sucked from my veins slowly but soon all is lost

Emotions are now not hurricanes but more like gentle rain showers

Words no longer flow from my fingertips 

My mind no longer races but the ideas never come

I've lost my skill I've lost my power

I trust that this will help me I trust that I will write again

I trust that I will get there 

But for now there is nothing 

For now there are blue skies tinted gray 

For now there are everliving flowers made of plastic

For now it's all fake

I think I have happy depression

For now it's all 

Gone

When you told me

Eye contact was not my thing 

I couldn't tell you

That I've seen your eyes

Somewhere else before

And that I want to go back

Because that's the closest

I've ever been to

Familiar

And if I look too close

I'm afraid

Your eyes will

Lose sight of me

While preoccupied

In the distance

the rain

tip, tap

beats

against the window 

melancholy days

spent 

in silence

fade 

into each other

my mind 

feels the same 

gray

as the sky

the words

no longer

remain

worn fabric of life

torn 

asunder

has been replaced

with ashen wisps

of memories

Society sells dreams

If it's a profiting company

Or social cliques

We are told who we are

What we should elevate to be

Even if the idea is impossible

Even though the effort

Is degrading, unhappy

Resulting in depression and little satisfaction

And never was going to make you happy

But we all fall in line to fit into the 'idea'

I'm trying to find myself

Block out what society whispers

Clue in to my own thoughts

Filter my perception

Because I want to be positive

And truly happy with the truth

Simply understand the truth

Know it

But I follow the line set in words

The songs of broken instruments

Hidden in attics

In a slumber where the sound sleeps

And I long to hear your voice

Without which there is no sense

Just piano chords hammered into life

Harmony but without soul

And I wish to fall

Into the place of Rumi's poem

Where everything is music

Because when I fall

I can only meet the floor

Not fly up

Into a world where music lives

Where the broken and the dead cannot be lost

Go where at least, when we die,

Fall up to meet the summit of the sky,

The music plays on

Everyday I stare at a blank wall

And Imagine every possible creation my hands can produce.

I think of how great it’d be to just charge at it;

To rub the paint on my fingers and just press play.

But somehow every time I lift my brush from my palette,

There’s not even a streak of paint.

Not a single color to pick up.

Why is there a brush and a wall if I have no paint?

Are you still human if there’s nothing there?

Is a person still a person if they can’t find a way to tell you;

To prove it… even to themselves?

How timid is the artist that leaves a canvas blank,

For fear that even the slightest touch will ruin what doesn't exist.

When will she realize that even [Untitled] is a name,

And a blank canvas, a picture.