You see I was I was
reading this book right
this real great book
and i had it in my hands
and im seeing this scene
that its describing
im not gonna go into the details
right now per se but im seeing it
in my head, you know
you know like how when
youre reading the words
but not really because they
are becoming blurred
and the picture just
kinda appears
in your brain
like you are living it,
like you are actually there
but you can't be
its just something that you see
without eyes
it blooms and engulfs the inside
of your mind
it opens the door and enters calmly
and makes it self at home, like a
painting on the wall
or or
like a number youve been meaning to call
do you see what im saying?

so that got me thinking, hear me out
you can imagine anything, yes i know duh
the pictures can sprout and bloom
become overgrown and be trimmed
maintained or treated with disdain
or with some good ole TLC,
really anything you want
a home a gnome a crystal phone
in Rome trapped on the wrong end of a honed
pearly white bone,
what does it mean oh let me tell you
i havent got a clue not one
but what about
a light you were shown when you were
younger but somehow still aware
that what you really need is somewhere
out there
or in there I should say,
does that mean something or does it
only hold significance because its your memory
of what you did when you were young
because right now you arent moving you arent seeing
anything you are just there with a blank stare
and if you measured the time that was lost
in this state it would be sad it would be
disappointing yeah if you watched it from the side
but from my view its fantastic i see lights
in different colors and see crystal worlds and
different others, thoughts borne of differing
mothers from different places
but all the same
down the same path
from the same origin,
its all really a walk down the map
to find your own x
but thats a discussion for another day
but as i was saying it could lead
to so many different places
filled with beautiful faces and cases
left shattered and broken on the ground
and everything is sound and safe
but then there is a clap or a pop
and bam you are awake, aware
that you were stuck staring into thin air
trying to see shapes  
awake awake awake
and then its all gone like an old song
that youve forgotten the words too
but sounds so so so so
familiar,
you know?

She guarded her heart with her head
Because she’d rather have that hurt instead
It’s easier to rationalize away her feelings
Rather than actually allow herself to feel things

Her heart tries to speak
It barely squeaks
Her heart is too weak
So she keeps the key

And when her head hurts it retreats in fear
But her heart is so shriveled that no one can hear
All of her issues exposed, as was guessed
She believed them, but now doubts this was best

Unable to defend
She meets a dead end
Locked in cement
She follows the same trend
Til her bitter end.

Been a long long time now,
stuck here down below.

I don't know what I'm doing here.
I don't know how I got here,
Maybe I do, but all I can see,
at the way top above,
glimpse of a sunlight
through a tiny hole.

I've tried so many times,
trying to crawl back to the sunlight.

The walls are too slippery,
There's no ledges to hold on to...

feel so scared in the dark,
as I am the only one.
yet I feel so ashamed,
even though there are no eyes of anyone.

Each day I wake up, Today is The Day!
then I realize there's no one here, what can I say...

I cry, I scream, I rage,
sometimes I realize I'm expressing, but only in my head!

No matter how many times I climb,
I keep falling down.
I wish there was someone else,
that can keep holding me now.

Can't figure out what else can I do...
Still I'm dying to crawl out through!

Sadness lingers over my head,
my whole being grieves
for the loss that I've not yet witnessed.
An ache claims my blood and bones
and I am reminded
again of how fragile I really am.

19
dictionaries stacked on the shelf near the blackboard
19
papers i have lying on my desk
19
thoughts inside my head
19
people sitting around me
19
threads lying lonely on the floor
19
pencils scratching
19
florescent lights bearing down upon my weary eyes
19.

Im losing track of time again.

Lost in words, lost in my own head.

Theres so much to see, so much to do.

So little time.

And it slips from my grasp like how sand slips through the fingers of a clenched fist.

Theres no fighting the flow.
    So why try.