Innocence,
That's not me.
Guilty,
That's not you.

What we feel,
Is our choice,
Influenced or not,
We choose to feel bruised.

Battered, broken,
By no one else,
But our selves,
Victimized by our need to understand,
To cope with the dope we're stuck on.

"It's your fault, not mine".
"How could they do this to ME".
Not reality.
Just a sleeve, a blanket, a wall.
Of ignorance.
Of indulgence.

I don't think you knew,
How much that note meant to me.
The one I put on the inside of the cover to the book I gave you.

To me, it was more than a formality,
To me, it was a little bit of everything,
The most I could manage, without doing too much damage.
To try and convey a feeling I couldn't afford.

So I left in a book,
That simple message.
I left that feeling in that book,
Closed the cover,
Closed the door.

And yet, somehow it managed,
To be opened once more.

We ******,
and now you don't wanna see me.
I'm bad at this kind of stuff, and having feelings
Prior doesn't make it easy.
I wanna see you more,
Spend time around you,
Do things,
**** more,
Watch movies,
Cuddle, all that couples ****.

I like you *******.

I am awake, aware, alone.
I sit, lay, and scroll through my phone.
For minutes, for hours, for days for months.
No letter z's visit me.

When you don't sleep, the world spins around you,
You feel, think, and move, too slow for anyone to notice you.
And so the world moves through you.
Past you.

Stuck in the current,
You are dragged,
Body torn through the rapids,
Mind splayed as time rushes about.
Nothing connecting, No thoughts to keep your mind aground.
Spinning, can't recognize anything, submerged by everything around you.

I don't sleep no more.

If I put on a mask would you love me again.
If I made myself up,
Tore the muscles on my bones,
Went to a meditation retreat,
Started seeing a therapist,
Looked at life with a positive perspective.

Would you?

I hurt myself today,
Not it any physical way.
Except for maybe not sleeping.
Except for maybe not eating.
But I can't compare, the feeling.
To the pain of the body.

For I know I ache from impulse.
Not in a regretful way.
Because,
I tried to wash a feeling away,
I tired to tie myself to different woman.

And silly me, didn't think.
That I would begin to think,
About how much, it really does stink.
That that woman wasn't you.

I am,
The one man,
Who can possibly stand,
And tell you,
With no hesitation,
That I know about your *******,
And that's okay,
Because today,
Is not the day,
That I will walk away.