the ones in my head
the ones around me
all of the whispers
turn to screams

and then i scream
because it's all too much
and now my head is bleeding
from all the screaming
and all the bleeding
turns to glitter

she calls them "sconds"
with a short "o"
but if you look at
the word "stones"
and substitute
the "t" for a "c"
you'll find
that it's "scones"
with a long "o"
because that just
makes sense

stone
hone
lone
tone
zone
scone

see? it's scones

what if you knew
that i'm not lazy
just exhausted
not physically
physically i could go
for hours
but mentally
i battle everyday
so those times when you say
"we're all tired"
just keep in mind
that there are different
kinds of tired
and they aren't equal
because a lack of sleep
doesn't equate
to a lack of control
of your thoughts
and words
and actions
and mind
because that
is more exhausting
than any broken
sleep pattern

but i guess i battle that too
so please understand
that i'm not lazy
i'm just sick and tired
of fighting myself
everyday
of laying in bed for ten minutes
and then accidentally
falling asleep
because my limbs
don't listen to my head
and the obstinate voice
saying "stay here"
is stronger than the one
asking me to listen
and do as i'm told

i know it sounds stupid
and childish
and selfish
and i know that
but i can't change it
i don't know how
and  no matter how
often i see the doctor
it always comes back
that little voice

that's when i sink
and the voice takes over
so please understand
that when i'm exhausted
i'm really asking for help
because i'm too tired
to help myself

You hear me screaming
in pain
in anger
in stress

but you don't hear
the voice telling me
to let it all out
and get it over with
so the pressure goes away

and I can't hear
the voice begging me
to keep it in
and stay quiet
so the peace will stay

one more push
to make it through the night
when you wake in the morning
there'll be love and light
when you go back to bed
don't be afraid to fight
I've seen it and you'll make it through
eventually you'll be alright

my fingers fly
tring to catch my thoughts
crap i wrote that wrong
but now its gone
i'm left with half a word
new sentence

but there goes that one too

it's garbled
like talking underwater
but going much faster
like a foreign language
i don't even get it

they're really going now
stuck in my legs
my fingers
there's bees and butterflies and moths
beating their wings
desperate to get out

if they get out
I can paint them
make room for more
these ones in my head
look at the ideas

god they're beautiful
if only I could catch them
but they flit away too fast
so the painting blur
mashed into a conglomeration of colors

the buzzing turn to music
flying away delicately
my fingers grow heavy
and they escape

the only ones I catch are dead