It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.

you know that girl
that really tall girl
with long legs that
her pants never
come past her ankle.

that girl that usually has
paint in her overgrown, nest of hair
and tends to stare at people,
attempting to absorb bits
of their personalities out
from underneath their skin
similar to how one would
absorb sunrays, she pursues
knowledge of others around
her.

that girl you didn't realize
was in your class until
you make accidental
eye contact one day.

that girl that remained
nameless. that girl that
slipped through the cracks
of the pecking order.

that girl that makes the
effort, but always goes unnoticed.

that girl whose always
too caught up in her thoughts
to see where she's going.

that girl that wears shorts
in december and jumpers
in july.

that girl is me

i like to watch the clock and the fingers on face
altering the time not a finger out of place
seconds moving fast as they tick away
changing in to hours making up a day
in each and every country every different zone
passing time away standing all alone
ticking all through life changing everyday
keeping time for everyone as he ticks away

Maybe I'm as tough as I seem...

Or maybe you're just too stupid to see that I need help.

Maybe I'm quiet

Or maybe you just don't see people can die silently

Maybe I love reading

Or maybe you just don't notice how my hands quiver as I cry into the pages.

Maybe I love singing

Or you like my tune just a little to much that you do not envision me putting a cry for a savior in my lyrics

Maybe I am too deep in my little colorful world.

Or you are to blind to see,that I am just a smidge too insane.

Maybe....this is all I will ever get.