I try to put my thoughts of you, this, us, whatever this is or isn't and how it makes me feel..I try to put all of it into words. I don't even care if they're beautiful or not at this point, I just want them to be in word from so I can clear the mental space.
But I'm starting to realize that the reason it won't happen, the reason I have no free mental space is because you have driven me to the point of a depressing, thrilling, painful, madness.
And I'm addicted to the slivers of blissful hope found buried within the shards of confusing misery you leave behind in my bed.

I wish I could stop all the time around me.
But keep moving, myself.
So I could have time.
And see it all.
And get better.
And know what to do.

It's not an option.
So I have to do these things
while everyone keeps moving.
Which makes it all more complicated.
And confusing.
And hard.

Please know I hear your offers for help.
And appreciate them.
But I cannot accept.
Helping me is just not something that will actually help me.
I have to sort this,
with out anyone else.

But...
It's so loud.
And Oh!
It's too much.
The white interference.
A symphonic cacophony.
And I'm just more (and more)
lost than before.
Caught in a tide.
Frantic to hide.
Drowning.
And I want to stop.
Breathing.

Yours,

Trouble

Life is a smorgasbord.

A cheese plate.
A puzzle.
A cheapskate.
A muzzle.
That confuzzles
And confounds you
Bounds you
Astounds you
That the bind is to
Liberty
In the hopes you'll see
You're nothing but free
In this mess of a sea.
Spirit hears your plea
So don't be afraid
To just
Be.

"Where is this going?"
you ask me, breathless

I know you are inquiring
about the next 5 minutes
but I cannot help but consider
the next 5 years
as I spill out words
that affirm the next move
you have been patiently waiting to play
for months

and the word friend
flashes in neon lights
behind my eyelids
as I think about your arm around my waist
in the bar just a few hours before
and your mouth pressed to my head
aggressively whispering
"Stop."
on the way home
when the heat in my chest
started to build
after looking at your phone

"We'll talk about this later,"
you tell me definitively
and so in the cold December air
you tell me that I deserve better
and that you do not deserve my suppressed tears
that might freeze if they fell

As you turn on the lights
so you can see what you're doing
I lie in your bed
now knowing
what it is like to be in a relationship

(but please don't use that word)

He was the Weekender Boy
with lips that tasted like salty sea caramel
on lovely Saturday mornings
and caresses that felt like soft warm sunbeams
on lazy Sunday afternoons

Mondays she sat behind him in lecture halls
watching the back of his black-haired head
as he flirted in the front row seats

Tuesdays were him walking past her bench
pinning her in place with those glacier blue eyes
that always turned away to porcelain redheaded dates

Wednesdays it was his calls that came at 3:05AM without fail
and she'd listen patiently to his drunken rants and giggles
that sometimes ended in tears and incoherent apologies

Thursdays he exhaled alcohol breaths one-two-three-four
while laying her down across his green vintage car hood
gentle as she moved lithe and languorous beneath him

Fridays they broke dorm rules and shared a room at night
they stayed up over beer and banana milk
and at sunrise she'd wake up in his arms to his smiling eyes

He was the Weekender Boy,
and she was the only girl who ever owned him on weekends.

My absence  in writing have made me wonder
What make a poet write?
Falling in love made me speak out
With every anxious and happy moment it led to
Dealing with new emotions confused me
A confusing I tried to solve by seing my thoughts in black and white
Letter after letter, line after line
My messy, tangled brain became something with a structure  

But it's hard to write when your inspiration lives hours away
When you learn to control your emotions and can't experience new ones
Because the love or loss you write about isn't their to love or leave you
You don't know what you feel anymore therefore you stop feeling
Now you don't know whether to love or leave

The last part isn't true
I just miss him so much so if I let myself feel the pain
It would crush me

You gotta understand that I'm hard to understand
I am not the same person at 10am and 10pm.

((Reading the notes might help you to understand this poem slightly more... though I can't guarantee it.))*

You know the best place to build a base would be the middle of the ocean.

just a thought

It was last September I told her, I told her to leave.

Help I'm drowning.

that's how it felt

Get her out the road I said, you know there could be anything coming round that corner.

still, I hope you know that sometimes this world has sent me crazy and

I hope you know I have now walked in completely the wrong direction to get home.

but let me give you some advice before I leave completely, it will never make much sense to you, but it will never really need to

When the river becomes starved of water,
don't go throwing bucketfuls of water at it's parched tongue now,
What you've got to do is you've got to plant yourself a flower or two in there, or otherwise build yourself a castle in the dirt,
Something like that.



Well, sh-t.

I have to leave now.

even now I can tell you know I never will
and really

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I always knew I was asking too much of you, when I asked if you might still be my friend.

No, don't go that way.

but you can't stop me
and
anyway, anyway, maybe if I let it go now

It will all be fine.
They will probably just turn up in a box of instruments somewhere.

good feelings often do, but then, I suppose, so do bad ones




What's the name of this tree?
I am having a shower in this tree look, a shower made of leaves, like, the water droplets are these leaves.
I always think these trees look like shower trees, the way the leaves hang down.

hey, hey, remember in those woods, before I showered

All I wanted was to find some grass, and you took me to the one place completely full of nettles.

I'll never forget it



I know,
I know I keep telling them and I know I keep telling you, and him and her and me and everyone, but

He hates my guts now, he really does, and all I ever did was keep trying to do the kindest thing, I keep trying to be kind.



but if I just forget all that
the truth is, when we go walking

We're not even drunk, not in the slightest.

and I'd like to tell you what I am

But I can't make decisions, Annie make a decision for me.

but how then

How are you so calm?
I just don't think about the future.

that's the only explanation I can give



thinking about it, I guess

I'm usually inside this like, wall of, kind of, mirrors.
But they're all different shapes so they don't line up perfectly, like, there are gaps.

and when I'm in a pavement mood

I'd rather have her shouting at me than tell her that the thing was, that I was sad then, and that was the reason why.

I think I'm like one of those buzzy globe things,
What are they called the brain things,
A plasma ball that's it.
But not as spherical, 'coz then it's all the same and nothing ever gets out.

there has to be some kind of gap, some kind of break somewhere



so I've had an idea

So can we all buy a boat?

or perhaps I could just be one

Look, by standing in this puddle I'm basically in the river, see?



I know I get distracted a lot,
sometimes I hear them tell me to try,
the thing with trying is that

The closest I would ever get to perfect was always in an accident,
So I think that true perfect must be broken up into at least a million, billion different accidents,
And maybe someday someone will piece them all together,
But then I think that their life might just be so full of accidents that it wouldn't even be theirs anymore,
And they would probably become so mad that nobody would ever believe them.



So anyway,  when are you going to tell me some more of your dreams?

I'm sorry, I never meant to go deeper than just to paddle in yet.

He said he's bricking it.

but I've been remembering my dreams in the morning when I wake up recently, and I've been finding the words and I think I can keep moving

There's a woods behind my house now, but I don't want to adventure there on my own really.

I think I'd like to know where all those little paths lead to someday though
so

Shall we open that gate?

or maybe we could just climb it
I don't know



I guess really I'm a wanderer, but also a wonderer,
perhaps one more than the other,
I can never be sure.

Certainty is someone who I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting.

I only ever hear bad things about him.

but hey, don't let yourself be too quick to judge I said

We've only heard of about ten crimes in the area in the past year, most of them thefts.




sometimes

I swear she doesn't even know who I am.
No, but honestly,  I think it was just that microphone that got in the way.

Why don't you all just leave? It's not like any of you even care.

but we both know that's a lie
and anyway

It always calms me when there's sunlight on my face.

then all I need is a nice deep breath and it's gone
and I know that

Yes, there is still a bottle of ***** on my chest of draws.

but really, it's okay because it's empty you see



now here's something that will make you smile

That cloud looks like an elephant with its legs on backwards.

I hope you see

And ever since you saw it, you wanted your hand to be touched in that way.

well, maybe that's just me
perhaps I shouldn't have said that
what have I become
I could not tell you the first day I began to live the life I'm living now but one thing I have realised is that

I have probably found more meaning in a field of grass to be honest, than I ever have in most other things in the world.

sorry, sorry
we're still paddling though I think, so it should be okay



Sometimes the world is just too much and I forget what to do.

have you felt how it affects us

I tied a scarf around my eyes this morning, because the light was too bright through my curtain.

and

You're losing your voice from talking so much.

but the whole world won't make me forget how much

I love the way it feels when I breathe the air in the morning or the evening,
when it's like the day's changing from one thing to another.

and the whole world won't ever make me forget this thought I keep on hearing in my head,
that*

We need to just find somewhere,
somewhere to have a moment.