Time is a cruel mistress
With a smile so hot
You think it could cook a pizza
All by itself
Time stays with me when I wait
It taunts me
Giggles at me
Laughs at me like a
Silly school girl.
And it never leaves.
I cannot ignore it.

But when I can ignore it,
When I'm having such a
Glorious time that time
Is on the back burner
It gets pouty and runs away
And then I am again waiting
And it laughs at me
Payback for my efforts to ignore it.
Time is a cruel mistress

I like books that end with questions
They make me think
About birds with fins
And humans with wings
And what to do with these pitiful things
Like my life

I like books that end with questions
Because you never get the full
Answer
And you always wonder what could
Have happened?
And if I was that character,
Would it have changed?
And you start thinking again

And I think that's why I like
Books that end with questions
Because I have started to think again
And it's been so long
Since I last began
So I'll try to never
Stop

And I wonder what I am even doing
With my life
For there is no such thing as a good
Or pretty teenage romance
Every one is lustful, ****, and super
Ficial and I wonder
Where am I
That I don't want that?
Many people do, don't get me wrong
But how many teens hold hands for
All their dates and don't even bother
Sharing their breath, saliva, and lips?

Do you ever want people to ask you
Certain questions?
Ever feel like you have something
To prove? Or someone
To prove yourself to?
If only they would ask you the right questions...
What do you think of music?
How does my soul seem to you?
What do you think of me?
Am I being too presumptuous?
And then those moments when you want them to ask you anything at all,
Anything so it isn't just an interview
With you on one side,
Lacking recorder or a notebook
And them on the other
And it isn't even for posterity
Yep....
How are you this morning?
Good
Did you sleep well?
Yes
Is your throat still bugging you?
Yes.
And that's the end of it. Your interview is worth three words and no more.
Even a nice, did you too? Would work.
But she likes to be the interviewee and if I want debate, contemplation, joking I best look elsewhere.

She chatters on and on
About her guy,
Though they're not dating yet
They're as close as the fingers on my hand.
And I'm the awkward thing in the middle
Not even an object just a thing
Doesn't she realize I'm jealous?
Yes I guess
I am a single pringle
Singing a single jingle
But that's not really me.
I don't want to be stuck
And I wonder
Has this ever happened to me before?
Has this ever happened to you?

You expect me to like you
After you've asked me to prom
You expect me to say yes and no
And to grin and bear it
And to introduce myself to your friends
Because you won't introduce me
Expect me to be "happy" with the
Stigma you gave me
Because you have made everyone
Silently expect
What you expect of me
You have made me famous
A celebrity and when people
Ask if I'm the girl you went to prom with
I grit my teeth and wonder what I
Did to deserve this stigma
Do me a favor
And
Expect me
To be alone
Expect me to not love you
But to be an acquaintance not
Even a friend
For that seems to close for me
Expect me to cringe at the sound of
Your name
And try to hide myself from you
And your family
Expect nothing from me

I lean on the side of my car
Watching the numbers perpetually spin
And realize it's not gas I'm buying
It's time
Time that I will spend in the car
Uselessly driving around
Wondering what I'm doing with my life
But I'm also buying distance
Distance that I can drive away from
My family my friends
My enemies
Distance I can sit there and zone off
And think
But if I'm not buying gas and instead buying time
What in really buying is money
Because time equals money
But it doesn't feel that way
It's always negative
And the equation in the end will equal zero