Sometimes when I close my eyes
I see slight ripples.
Sometimes grain.
I sometimes wonder how most people see the world.
Bright colors.
If everything is as clear as it appears.
I assume it's normal. To wonder if things are there or not.
The static that appears before my eyes.
A desire held within.
The static compensating the reality of how things are.
A visual interpretation of what I miss most.
Nothing ever solid.
A face appearing between the grain.
I can never read her expression.
Dissipating seconds after I open my eyes.
Mounds & mounds of snow.
Sometimes I wonder.
If you ever see the same snow that I see

Im not sure what to think anymore.
Was it all out of bore?
Did I just need something, someone ,
To pour my emotions out on
I hope its more than that
Im young
Im reckless
Worry lines are invisible
But my worries are clear
You might be the first
My first, truly
Theres been others
But none like you
It might all be unscrambled soon