Do you ever drive
By a city or town in the dead of night
And wonder
About the people within?

How many are in debt from school?
How many have gone to bed with the love of their life?
How many are trying to hide family troubles behind locked doors?
Is the world's next Einstein in there?
Hollywood's next rising star?
How many go to bed afraid of coming out to their friends?
How many have some buds they'd die for in that town?
How many struggle day in and out, fleeing from a substance?
How many go through a routine each day, afraid to do more but afraid of leaving their path?
How many jot down ideas for that play they want to write on a napkin?
Is there a future president in there?
A poet of unparalleled verse?

How many people
Go from day to day in that city
Thinking they're alone in their problems
While surrounded by people who also think that?

What's going on
In those unlit houses of the city
Where the human mind resides?

Who's there?

Vices, heartbreak and spices,
Oh how enamored we can be.
It's all so amusing to us,
How we can die drowning at sea,
Drowning with our aroused senses.

It's all exhilarating!
How a tiny spat can spit blood,
Pushing up the daisies to go splat!
As you see the pavement and hear a thud.

You lay in flat in bed then you sat,
Thinking of every detail and all.
Other's drown in alcohol instead.
It's a good thing you didn't fall.
Because curiosity would've killed the cat.

Just too many questions
Twisting their question marks into hurricanes
inside
the mazes of my brain
|[ ]|
There is an urge to
grab the answers
now
With the hook
of the question marks
?
To let the question marks straighten
slowly into
exclamation marks
!
To then swallow
the stem of them each

To leave a full stop
.
An answer.

better get the idea
of learning new things.

through experienced
you know.
It comes from you.

He was so intense
His brow, forever cast down,
*Was always furrowed.

My mind is on fire
with the itch of
curiosity.
Like the flakes from
my scalp
Ideas fall from my head
where they lay, I simply
blow them off.
I left empty handed
And sore from
scratching for answers .

Pastels and pretty pictures,
I lean back in the couch,
The elephant in the room,
She'll never know about,
How the critics wail over the way the paint falls off her brush.

I would rather drop-dead,
Than ever talk about
That night back in 07'
Teeth flying out my mouth,
But I think you would've liked me better then anyhow,

                                                        ­                      I'm curious...

                                                     ­   I'm curious...

                                                     ­                      ...I'm curious....
                              ..Cause
                                           I
                                              just
            ­                                         wanna
                                                           ­       see
                                                      ­                  what
                                          ­                                       makes
                                                           ­                                  you
                                                             ­                                        tick  



Each year he writes a note
and leaves it in his room,
Key lime pie, Saturdays at the zoo,
Reminiscing flashbacks of better fast food,

Dead the day,
He scurries home in the dead of night,
Dragging his will, whats left, shaking off the frostbite,
Volunteers to play drunken clown for another night,


I think of their eyes and everything that they've seen,
Nothing that I see could ever be unique,
So don't you lie and say you see it shining in me.


                                                              ­                I'm curious...

                                                     ­   I'm curious...

                                                     ­                      ...I'm curious....
                              ..Cause
                                           I
                                              just
            ­                                         wanna
                                                           ­       see
                                                      ­                  what
                                          ­                                       makes
                                                           ­                                  you
                                                             ­                                        **tick

A heat that keeps the chest warm, reminds of the days that hurt the most. They leave a feeling of distaste, but a curious cat walk trail has you lost in it all. A care in a world of apathy, the holiest of feelings in an unholy being. You look back on that trail, realizing that the warmth brought the coldest and most stagnant of days, you are frozen in time.