Wine has a color like my thoughts
Dark and wet
Because my mind is a dark room, with dew on the walls
And mold in the corners
It’s so empty I hear my dreams echo from when I was sleeping
Eleven hours ago
And honey has the consistency of my thoughts
Slow and thick
And sticky
Not letting go of the past
And collecting everything as it blows by
Just to get heavier and
Have me grow more sorrowful
My honey-thoughts and mind of dark places are unlikable
And I much prefer my old, fan-thoughts
That would blow the negative things away and cool me down
And my old mind of a castle so broad and beautiful with framed pictures on the wall
And marble stairs
Clean (never collecting dust), and organized
Where did it go?
Why did it leave?

I’m tugging your sleeve
I feel like a small child with their parent at the amusement park
And I’m saying to you, mentally,
“You’re just jumping at everything that comes at you!
Taking it under your arms and caressing it
Announcing it loud and clear!
Your plans are made”
But oh,
You let them go when something more shiny and new comes along
And you let go of all you said before and now you’ve scribbled out your future
And are writing a new
And what is this? A comical change? Are you doing this for the fun of it?
Because you’re bouncing like a bunny
And smiling along the way
And I can’t help but never take you seriously
Because with the dusty things you have now
There are shinier things to come
And you change your mind as often as I bite my nails

I look at my window but not out
And I’m looking at its unprotected-of-weather surface, blue and wet
Crying
And pebbled in drops of the rain that has been falling all day
And I feel like it
My surface blue, and wet
Crying,
And pebbled in drops of the pain that has been falling on me
For a while now
My window and I have a lot in common, it seems

My regrets are falling down on me like rain
And I know I’ve always said that I don’t have any
Each bad thing leads to a good
But I am noticing some that have never done anything good for me
Except get the curiosity out
But I would have rather been curious my whole life long
Than have regret taunting me in my sleep
And in my days

Well I made it across in my boat
The murky sea, plentiful in doubts and sorrow
It ate up my oar
And I sobbed as I used my arms in replacement
But I’ve made it across and this land is glazed in flowers
I’m finally okay

A tree told me a story today
And it was better than a grandfather-on-his-rocking-chair
Better than an Uncle-George-by-the-campfire
Because this tree did not use words
He used movements graceful like a river
And I’ve never seen anything so beautiful

Maybe contentment is a bird I set free that I’ll never get back
Maybe life is a plane that takes off and you just have to get on before it does
Or you take the train
It’s slower but you still get where you’re going eventually
And maybe you’ll see your contentment flying by your window
Wishing you were flying with it like you would have in the plane
If you had gotten on
And perhaps I’m one of those people who didn’t get on
And I’m taking the train watching that bird out my window