usually im thriving on change
but now change is thriving on me
i used to be buried only in silver linings
but clouds dont have handle bars.

im liquid and mutable,
no solid foundation,
i have daydreams
but they comnstantly **** me dry,
ive had lovers but they never called,
the pretty girls get to go to college with daddys money
well my father doesnt believe in me,
doesnt talk to me,
all i have to offer is art

and he wont trust what he doesnt understand.

a vision thats been so clear lately,
im packing my bags with ocean mist shampoo, a camera, a toothbrush, blank notebooks, shooting star earrings, vanilla incense,
catching the next flight to wonderland.

dissapear.

not that this town,
the only place ill ever call home,
hasnt brought me so much,
it has shown me its many hidden paths,
all the best spots to duck into with the friends that drift in during the summer
but never really stay,
secrets through the sweet potent smell of smoke,
the writing on the wall:
"are you living your dream?"

so im wondering.
is this what my whole life has built up to be,
a skyscraper of long-term memories
encoded then stored to forever be pulled up from file drawers?
lessons learned and regrets thrown in trash bins,
barely scratching the surface of those i thought i knew so well,
hands in the oven
and wading in water,
rainbows over ambulances,
the city in flames,
strawberry fields,
bear tracks in snow,
freezing cold spring in hardly standing tents,
dazed morning afters,
bruises and scars and reckless lucid dreams,
diving headfirst into the shallow end,
over and over again,
chasing the world through a lens,
artificial perspectives;
how i watched so many fall for them,
drinking their life away.

the moment i realized i was lonely, but i would never be that alone.

a series of events of which i still dont know whether or not were unfortunate.
i dont want to be another high school angst heartbreak cliche,
the almost-smiling girl lifted into the dawn, away.

but this head is raging.
"the heart is the weakest ***** in the body"
and the medicine just isnt working.

somehow, i believe, new streets and sunsets,
unfamiliar faces on littered beaches,
every corner a turn i wont hesitate to make,
will bring back the fragments i have dropped along the way.
because i just want to believe.
i want to, finally, be.
i'm starving.
i want something more.
give me anything.
i want to overdose on everything miraculous that there is yet for me to walk on. maybe drown in northern lights.
maybe paint my hopes in passion red and off-turquoise-seafoam-green.
maybe chance a stranger, a kind voice to be exchanged with mine. one i could trust, could crawl into and sleep.