I've got gnarly bruises,
that come from angry nights and drunken prophecies,

I've got raindrop tears,
that fall like meteors on my bed sheets,

I'm itching to get out of this place,
with instilling fear and a question my body can't let go of,

what if I cannot find where I belong,
like a stray dog wandering the streets at 2 am?

I am nothing but a fool in love with apprehension,
it's a love/hate relationship with myself.

I catch my thoughts as they fly away,
trying to find a vessel with feelings to fall in love with.

Even I get sick of my thoughts,
they're filled with old memories and home wreckers