I think it's better that I write when I'm happy
Than to write when I'm sad
When I try to write something I just end up mad
Cause nothing comes out, nothing sounds good
I can't compose like I think I should
My mind wanders, but is more often blank
I consider, reconsider, and then over think
Well, it looks like I can write something after all
But most people, including myself
Conclude it's not any good at all

Sitting here I can hardly wait,
hours tick by, its getting late.
Late changing to early.
as the earth keeps on turning.
and thursday rears its ugly head.
Just kidding. I <3 thursdays.

Hollow, haunted, hurting eyes staring at
the ceiling.
Cold, hard, white tile floor a pillow
for my head.
Last gasping, grasping tendrils of reason
slipping from my brain.
Oh the bite of bitter steel; sweet and
welcome pain.
An outstretched palm, ungrasping fingers,
nerve and tendon showing.
A smile of peace, a sob of despair;
blood is thickly flowing.
I close my eyes and now I see that this
is childhoods end; Wasted lives, broken
people and shattered dreams that never mend.

Happiness is uncontrollable
and when it occurs
you will automatically know, know

here is the setting:
in a church choir
everybody smiling with such desire

but when the chorus hit
I couldn't handle it!
The beats and rhythm
even the tune!

first a smile sprouts on my face
then progressively changing
into a large grin
almost laughing
and then laughing

I pinched myself
to remember people were watching
but It wasn't working..

I thought about death
maybe that would make me depressed
but the chorus came again

and I knew
I couldn't hold it in!

I wish I saw with my scent,
and learned with my hands.
People were voices,
recognized by accent
and figured without distraction.

I never really traveled much;
that upsets me.
So I'll put my fingers on this modeled globe,
And travel across the world.
    In little to no time at all.