she says she's alright
but turn down the lights
it's all in her head now

it's night,
i should write,
filling pages upon pages with words en route from my brain

it's night
i can't write
filling white pages with white words

alive...
but living?

today was a sideways thumb.
not all the way down but not deserving of up.
today was a rollercoaster,
of highs and lows, unders and overs.
today was walking in the sunshine,
and recoiling when the voice was raised at you.
today was cooking and rain,
sidewalk talks but later feeling blocked.

i gauge today with a sideways thumb.

i feel inadequate.
am i not enough to be here?
am i helping?
i thought i was the positive influence,
but i feel like i am taking steps backwards,
and putting on a front facing facade is tiring,
for the girl i watch.

what is this life that i flit through?
year by year.
month by month.
week by week.
day by day.
hour by hour.
minute by minute.
second by second.
i feel i'm merely just passing the time.
passing by,
passing through.
the individuals of time flow past me,
as though time,
is a deconstructed reality.
because one moment is always the next,
seemingly leaving me reaching towards something inevitable,
and sometimes it can't seem to come soon enough.