talk to me like I'm daft
I'm suffering in my craft
my perception peaks off the charts
(if you think I'm not noticing
I promise you it's an art)
a skill I didn't ask for
I feel intention before verbs
I hear the voice before words
sometimes but rarely I will see I was wrong
only if you're singing a similar song
that you were never taught
and you feel alone a lot...
I get it, I do too
surrounded by people lining every wall in the room
I'm still a vessel in a sea
of people I'll never let in to know me
because of fear, maybe
I can't think about it too much or I'll go crazy

currently in between
a nightmare and a dream
I'd like to move like a ghost in your world

here then suddenly gone
not afraid to admit I was wrong...
but I'm already like a ghost.
you're wondering if I'm still around
while I only linger now

but I left town
and you did too
too much too soon

I sound dreadful
but I'm helpful
and imperfect
don't distort it

make love to an artist
they'll make art
in response to your every move
even after they do...
abstract expressions
of feeling too much too soon...

I'm a sucker for the rush
a nightmare and a dream
is calling me a crush
context changes in moments passing
the truth is I don't do that much laughing
I'm as cold as it seems
please, see me as a dream

you're giving me nostalgia
this city **** is cinematic
and I'm feeling electric
static vibes around me
want the vibes absorbing me
redefining me
wondering where to begin
feels like being born again

honest art
that's what I wanna see
from you
from me
expectations are high
(hell, so am I)
want to be as big as my dreams
wanna flow out my creativity like a stream
make you feel like I'm make believe
(but it's only in isolation that can be acheived)
want everyone to distantly respect me
(and I wonder why I'm ******* lonely?)
I'm a contradiction
consistent and willingly
but most times without thinking...
these new lights are blinding
(not when I'm driving)
(but **** lately has been slick)
crying gets old quick
but it sure feels good
and I don't cry enough
I get told I should ...
more more more
bored bored bored

writing my poetry to horror movies...
the fear never lasts longer than a moment,
and it's safe to breath for a small pardon...
because what I'm afraid of
isn't in my imagination.
what I'm afraid of,
it isn't lost
in my world of creations...
it's something most people seek
but it makes me feel weak.
I'm not interested in romance,
I'm interested in the rain...
because it's too exhausting now
to think about doing it all again.
I've got my heart on my sleeves
so you can see...
but they're attached with iron clamps
weighing on me, sinking me...
because what good is an anchor
without a distant shore?
what good is falling in love
with a heart that always wants more?
I'm going to let you down

"this is not about you"
she said
through her fingertips
dipped in deceit---to you, at least...

we relate and turn it into reflections,
reflections only faced towards ourselves,
constantly needing protection...
opening every book in our mind's shelves
to find the source of someone else's truth...
the light isn't bouncing between other thoughts,
it's absorbing into your darkness looking for proof.
being fed & torn from your ego without crosses
unholy wars with insecurities from all losses...
laying out on golden thrones made of pride
find any excuse and picking a side.

your tactics aren't working
this is not about you.

the contrast between you presently
and the you that I knew past tensely
have altered so much willingly
I wonder which side of you is your pose...
can't say anyone really knows...
but can you even say you do?
is anything behind or below your lip's flow true?
forget it and put your walls up
forget it and put your fists up
defenses against those who admire you
will only make you burst into flames
you can pretend there's different levels
of small town fame
but I'll remember you just the same
be careful who you throw dirt to
it'll be that same dirt that buries you