ears spilling rain, water found
when i tilted my head up and tried to listen
at the wrong time, i guess
but hey, i'll listen to your rain
catch it, absorb it, drink it
and shed it through tear ducts like mirrors
reflecting your weather
you don't have to smile, i'll find some way
to light the wet pavement in front of me
that involves no lies, no "i'm fine"
no way that's going to keep my head high anymore

eyes spilling honesty, feelings found
when i opened them all the way
just for a moment, but it was enough
to let something in, something clean
and *****, small but somehow
it filled me right up to the brim

and now i'm spilling over
with four-letter words
care
or ****
because of the fear
or love
because there really is no other word for it

cars, trees and concrete flip by
like television channels, each one forgotten
by the press of the button
or the slow closing of my eyes as i grow tired
of the still-life patterns
and the constant sounds of humans
interacting with machinery

to tell the truth, it was different before

this morning, the buildings sped past
in time with my music
and i smiled back at the bus driver
sitting down with the anticipation
of standing up again
waiting to step down into that sunshine
waiting to shield my eyes from the sky
and wrap my vision around you

and you never disappoint

this afternoon, though
i sit heavy and sinking
into blue plush, silver metal and damp dust
as i leave the sunshine behind

call me dramatic, but leaving you
feels like the real thing

heartstrings are stretching
words etching weakness into the veins
that spin round the surface of what might be my soul
and the doubt casts bruises upon the changing weather
that threatens to break through
and sever the strings altogether

i don’t need my heartstrings, do i?
i don’t need to be tied down to some feeling
that keeps fading and sparking and blazing
and blinding my eyes to the strength i am losing
i don’t need to be tethered to any safe words
or to careful phrasing of a feeling
that has no meaning without an answer
and yet is never a question

and i’m tired of phrasing it like a question, waiting
for a response to validate my crooked, fearful thoughts
waiting for a yes or a no or even just
maybe
coupled with a smile
and some **** good explanation for why i’m being left hanging
on my own stupidity, time and time again
as i read too much into nothing
and nothing into everything
and i become someone other than myself, ignoring
the way i used to work, always standing by
until someone else went first

i’m tired of going first
tired of waiting in line, tired of buying tickets
to  my own show
tired of being early
tired of running behind
just tired, really

i’m tired of myself, and of the way i deal
with all this, letting myself give in to honesty
and then stitching myself up on the way home
with cold air and a hard swallow of the words
that i regret saying

i’m tired of regretting everything
come springtime, i don’t want to regret winter
stretched heartstrings melting across bare branches
as i am swallowed by the leaves
and an airplane takes me home across three time zones
where i can just forget the whole thing

it's not about luck, you know
it's about reading the cracks in the sidewalk
and taking the route that your heart beats toward
and saying the words that feel right
and reaching out when your fingers itch to
and reading more into luck than just coincidence

i swear, it's all a pattern
sure, we shift like tectonic plates
all over the place, but we are still
when it matters most, time moves around us
and you've just got to recognize that quiet
submit to the current

it's not about luck, you know
it's about reading too much into the little things
and ignoring the big picture
just for a little while

i am an old soul
in young love and out of body
i have ceased to hide

yesterday i was alone and walking down some tunnel
that was the opposite of crowded and yet i felt as if i took up the whole space and more
and my words ran long lines, longer than my normal short thoughts
breaking up in weird places
and then for the first time in a long time my mind spoke with my body instead of my soul
and my voice was coming back at me from the concrete walls
and i realized
i was talking to myself and i was answering myself and even as the conversation continued
i thought, all these times i’ve called myself crazy and now i’m proving my theories right
but there’s nobody here to bear witness to the fact
that i am arguing the existence of my own sanity
and i fell silent only when i encountered another human being and suddenly
i felt ashamed, even though the words i had been saying
were nothing short of some sort of honest truth, and actually
i kind of liked being crazy and i vowed that the next time i find myself
really, truly alone
i’m gonna check in on how i’m feeling
because my voice seems to know me better than i know myself
and i’d like to know myself

feeling like something of a pharaoh
ignoring the pain of crossed legs
and just sitting here, still and trying
to be a little bit regal for once

could i be a royal?
would you listen to me?

i feel like something of a peasant
low down to the ground, but comfortable
being at the bottom

i could never be a royal, really
even i wouldn’t listen to me