My heart is a hitch hiker
She ain't afraid to stick her thumb out
and grab a ride with the first loser to pull over-
No grudges.

She'll stay gone for days,
Can you believe that?
Sometimes weeks...
She doesn't care to sleep in vacant parking lots
Or dark alley where the homeless creep..

She'll sit too close to a strangers fire;
Drinking whiskey while walking a wire
and everyone around will laugh-
But meanwhile,
she's just crashing...
Daydreaming about her next hitch
Like a fix
It can't come quick enough.

She'll get comfortable too fast
Hoping for illusions to last
Spending too much time on a forgetful past-
And before you know it,
She's calling fantasy her home.

Oh, that *****
Who likes to hitch
Calling fantasy her home.

Why is it when you enter a room, I'm not the first you see?
You scan the room and always last your eyes will fall on me.

You make me feel invisible, as if I'm not really there.
Would you notice if I left? Or would you even care?

Why is it when you look at me there's nothing in your eyes?
But when another comes around your attention seems to rise.

For just one day I'd like to feel like your eyes were only on me,
And that even in a crowded room I'm the only one you see.

Why is it you seem so interested when others are around?
But when It's me who seeks your attention it never can be found.

I don't know how much longer I'll be able to take this pain.
All of these feelings and insecurities are driving me insane.

So why is it you don't notice that I'm sad and miserable?
Probably because every time you look at me I'm still invisible.

I really need you
But she
Needs you more
Go
And say goodbye
For me too.

I cannot keep you here with me
But I've misplaced my only key
So here we are behind the door
Locking eyes while fate's ignored

Too long I've held my tongue 'til blue
For fear that I would misconstrue
My own elusive thoughts in lieu
Of wanting just to be with you

But I was not expecting this
That love would mend what I had risked
The look upon your pallid face
Had soaked up hues of perfect grace

And open I have held my heart
You drifted in, became a part
Of this progressing work of art
Essential to our new restart

See, living is a sacrifice
And getting by will not suffice
For those who seek, as you and I
To spill themselves outside the lines

I don't think I've ever been the stuff of woman’s fantasies

I doubt a stranger passing on a street has given me

a second glance you see,

I can't play guitar I can't sing a song I can't even dance

I am what some magazines would call “out of shape”

I have a beard but contrary to stereotypes

it doesn’t smell nor does it contain

remnants of food like Mr Twit .

But maybe if I died in some immaculate way

I'd be revered and future people would pray to effigies of me,

have images of me dangling from their neck.

Alters made up of an old shoe I once wore,

or perhaps a piece of paper I had scribbled on?

My pathetic writing suddenly prophetic.

Until then I guess I continue to exist

and grow my beard in readiness.

My heads a mess
My thoughts repressed
From a weekend that I've spent with you
Although it is true
Sometimes I feel blue
I just want you to be part of my mess.

How is the night treating you? I am asleep,
but not. Half awake, but not. I am hope,
but not. I want to scream, but don't. In this
half-morning, I want yesterday, but don't.
Tomorrow has poured in, but hasn't.

Now these itchy feet. Itchy tips of hair
that rub the cheeks. Itchy heart where
love smoulders. Some sweeter itch:
but, itch, nevertheless; itch in my sleep.
I want to know if this is an itchy night?
The rain falls like an itch on the rooftop.

This is some funny farce of a farcical night.
Tonight, I love the teals more, but don't.
Coots seem darker than the sky, but aren't.
In this deep night, I am love, but not. In this
last 'but not', the 'not' part is small, I mean.