I'm scared of silence Lately, I distrust my thoughts Because I don't like the voices in my head that find the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights. I always hear them whisper misery An uninvited company that lacks the courtesy to find its way out. On nights like these it hits me. The only reason I keep replaying John Mayer Is because when he sings he sings about a common trouble. And opens up for me to escape. He descants in a melody that makes me bemuse the ugliness of myself. Leaving me with an atlas mapped out with a road trip planned to a destination far from my current state. Mayer leaves me numbed with talks of the ocean waves and train rides in Georgia All escaping in his soft tenor that beautify my afflictions. When in reality nothing painful is beautiful Nothing beautiful should ensue from agony Purple and black fingerprints left on a woman's face should never be mistaken for finger paintings. I'm not one to speak For I lack the ability to handle my own complications. Problems arising from all corners of my life have me centered in a hallow room compiled with letters addressed to myself.
Who are you becoming? Why should I love you? What makes you important?
Questions I still stutter upon when answering They should be memorized by now but the inauthenticity of it has me living life a hollow. A vacant in my own true skin. But seems to find a home in everyone else's business. I tell myself it's just a distraction. We all need distractions from ourselves. Leaving questions unanswered and feelings bare. But soon to be left masked once again by the Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer caress on lonely nights. While pouring out ballads of long loves and solitude he tells me that I'm perfect lonely. And I believe him. Though something is missing.
I believe him. And I take it.
Besides the greatest flaw about being a human Is the ability for one to feel [for everything].