Hello, I'm nobody
I wish I could become someone
but I guess that won't happen
my minds exploded
damaged or dead making repair
Almost impossible

Again, like I said I'm nobody
so I guess no one will notice
If I take  myself away.
Not ending myself but shutting down
never Again to know the light of day

I said before I wish I was someone
people cared about
But I said before, I'm nobody
and that no one will ever doubt

she's afraid of reoccurring nightmares
afraid of choosing a single instrument to play, she can't stay with one
beautiful sound-producing musical wonderwall,
of committing herself to one,
and I was wondering if she was really talking about instruments
or talking about people,
talking about me--
am I a violin or a piano?
it doesn't matter because she says she wouldn't stay with any of them
anyway.
she's afraid of going downstairs to brush her teeth at night in the dark
and instead of picking up a tooth brush
she's afraid of picking up a razor in its place,
and god i tell her
all about my nightmares
how I run and outrun myself
or try to,
I reveal that I fear and love being
alive, I expose myself and my personal
horrors,
and I tell her, tell her it all, and for the first time
she looks at me with eyes that aren't empty,
eyes that are sorrowful as they are
compassionate and she tells me
"it's okay".

I'm doing time inside of my own mind
Without the possibility of Parole.
Visitors prohibited,
Human contact limited;
And my soul is locked in the hole.

It started on a goodbye
and it ended not on a bang
or a boom
or a high.
Just a sigh,
to fill a space where there were no words left to speak.

time issues forth then blends us  into reminisces
resolves to tick and continue as spawn and fry
swim forth into a swarming mass of
death into an ocean bereft of feel
upon our dead bodies they feast.
A few returning, miraculously, upstream
to where they issued forth,
begin anew the circle,
regrowth and death so every day ticking.
Issuing forth our cells
to  feed natures
next beginning.

I get drunk, then I get weird.
It's kind of what I do.
Sometimes,
I'm weird when I'm sober too,
but only around those who never do.
Get drunk, is what I mean.
I deal with them best when I'm hungover;
Half-awake and half-asleep.
Maybe it'll be easier when I'm older. It's true:
I'm filled with doubt and dreams,
and hung up on memories that I can't keep,
but that's nothing new.

we are driving through lindale texas
and you are holding on to the bottle at your feet
harder
than you have ever held my hand

the times you smile at me, it does not touch your eyes
the moments your hand glides past me are merely accidents
when you look at me what do you see?

is it the
chances you saw yourself miss or
the mistakes you made unraveling in front of you again

we are cut from the same cloth,
because something in our DNA
and something in the heavens agreed
yours were the assets i would need
to survive.

we are driving through lindale texas
and you are muttering about a missed bill or two
and i’m just happy to be so close to you