I come home again and there you sit
On the couch under the tvs grip

You never move, complain when I leave
I have asked you to come and join me

No you say, you're to tired for that
You rather go take your daily nap

So you escape to the room with bed
There you are laid now resting your head

Off you go having those horrid dreams
Keep this up, it'll be reality

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I love being cliche,
and being lazy too.

I’m sorry that I don’t always
Find the time for exercising
And sometimes my room is cluttered
I’m not a real clean person

I’m sorry that sometimes
I leave my cereal bowl
On the table
I don’t relate, half the time
To things that are important

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I know sometimes
I’m not perfect
I do not practice
What I preach
But neither do you
Cause no one can
Don’t mean to burst your bubble.

I can’t read minds,
You’d like me to
I wish I could
Cause then I’d know
Exactly when you’re mad at me
And then I wouldn’t need
To have these pointless
Panic Attacks
My brain thinks are so important
I should see a doctor

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I do well school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I like to think
I’m unique
I try to stand outside the crowd
But you told me
I sure blend in well
I think that’s mean
Because you’re the most
Basic ***** I’ve ever known
But maybe you’re right,
I’m just like you.

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

You’re right, Mom:
A "B" is not an "A"
I’m a hoarder
I’m not healthy
I’m pretty lazy
Quite complacent
Self-righteous
Inconsiderate

But I’m doing my best, Mom

there's a stir in my heart
feels like having a fit
what to do about it?

i don't know where to start
i'll just sit for a bit

most endeavors
include a honeymoon effect
but all have a wall
a hurdle so great
that if overcome
will change
the very essence
of who you are
who you will be
a great transformation

why it is like this
I don't know
I myself
have yet to climb
sucessfully
get me
out of this place
and escape
this wretched
meaningless existence

Quiet static from the TV calms my tired soul
A metronome of jagged rhythms and wild tempos
Yet it must repeat at some point
And that's all it needs to do

Day by day, I see the sun rise and set
Or is it simply me sinking lower and rising back up like the tide?
I'd like to say that it's the sun or the Earth doing the work
Because I'm far too weak to move

Drops of water fall from the leaky faucet
***** saucers and pans piled high near the sink
A warm mixture of sweat and pizza hangs in the air
Not quite unpleasant, like an old blanket over my body

Sweat drips from my neck and wets the collar of my shirt
My head resting on the hot arm of the sofa
And I can see both the ceiling of the room and of my skull
I balance on the cliff over the chasm of slumber

Teetering back and forth on the precipice, not sure if I should jump
My eyes blinking faster than the static
My heart beating slower than that faucet
My body feels like it's falling down and then flying back up
And the moon plays peak-a-boo as I pass through the clouds over and over again