A voice is like a raindrop,
       lost in the downpour.

                It is easily washed away.

Somebody find You in a dew
Somebody wander about into the woods
Men are wandering
Here and there in search of You
I am too in search of You
But the track and style is varied.
They go far, beyond themselves.
I feel and dive inward myself.
So I find You in my heart
They remain wandered about.
And I feel pleasure in my solitude

Somewhere between not yet and no longer.
Do you know it?
You can find me there.
Sit, please, tell me how you hurt.
Share with me all the thoughts that keep you up at night,
and indulge me in the little quirks you've mastered
to fill that space between not yet and no longer.
I have cigarettes and all the time in between.

I believe some people were born to be lonely,
and I'm believing more and more we were born to be seen,
and not understood.
But I don't want to be seen or understood.
One is too humble,
the other too grandiose.
I long for some place in between -
I long to be heard.
What an incredibly lonely place that is.

I know not how to remedy the gaps
between two opposing chemicals.
Too happy.
Too sad.
Too alone.
Too needy.
The cycle goes on and carries me from here to there,
too quickly,
or too slowly.
I just do what I'm told and take my pill.
'ONE at night'
and self medicate with caffeine and nicotine in between.

Now I smoke more than I ever have.
I don't know if I'm trying to fill a space
or **** something inside of me.
Either way it passes the time between now and finding out,
between not yet
and no longer.

I've found my new obsession.

Smirk affixed to his face
with sarcastic remarks
and slippery words,

mysterious in that stupid
teenage way.

I'd **** to hear what he has to say
about the nonsensical *******
we're forced to endure
each day
that the government calls an
"education".

I'm sure
his opinions on how
we're taught to the standardized tests,
nothing more
and nothing less
could cause enough raw power
to run the whole of New York City
for a month.

Though, too, I'd **** to learn
the terrain of his lips
as our bodies
slammed
against lockers,

oblivious classmates
a wall away
consumed by the
awesome
world of geography,
missing out on something
so
much
more.

He and I,
we'd know what more is,
we'd know how to consume it,
how to keep it at bay,
how to work it
like a hat,
a hat we aren't allowed to wear
at school.

We'd laugh at our own obscurity,
and shared secrets
would run through our veins
like blood,

one cut and it all spills

Big loud words,
Never heard.


-Watercolour