Sunday sun-dazed steamy sweet haze
of our warm breath coats the icy
window panes the sky shines bluer
than our fingers in the snow so
sleep on dreamer while we wait for
summer days to breathe again

It's simplistically the most painful baring ever,
the world is rotating slowly alongside that time, we grow.
I sit here not amused with myself, in every form of way,
I honestly want to be grateful for everything,
but it is never enough for me.

I look at the clock going off in my mind,
ticking every single second away.
I stare at the walls which slowly decorate themselves,
but realistically always look the same.
I feel myself slowly urging to advance yet never seem to do so.
I see myself crying inside,
I want to let out yells and I don't know why.

A woman can paint her life away, staring at the same objects happily,
yet I am here sitting here writing the same **** things over and over until they satisfy me.

Why do I stress out on being so perfect to the eyes of others?

On the page they draw me in.
In my mind, the drive me crazy.
Teaming up against me, like rugby.
Tainting things until they look ugly.
Telling stories, a thousand stories above reality
With crystal clear clarity.
These treasures, so pure it's too clear to see.
as with time, they get the best of me.
Idle hands; the rest is history.

Glow bugs chew up home  .  .  .
**** branches climbing to sun,                                                    
  .  .  .  Bark at base of tree.

I'll write this tomorrow

There once was a lazy little man
With a lazy little nostril
One lazy little day
The lazy little nostril
Decided to stop working
And that lazy little man
Never saw the rest of that
Lazy little day

They tell you there's a light at the end of the road
They tell you there's a life for all those they've told

They told me I'd be alright, all I had to do was breathe
But I've been breathing since the day I was born
And I can tell you it hasn't kept me "fine"

They tell you I'm crazy,
They tell you I'm lazy,
but what they don't tell you is how I struggle to get out of bed
what they don't tell you is how close to death I've been
what they don't tell you is how strong I am.

They told me it happens all the time,
they told me soon the sun will shine
they told me many things that were all lies.
What they didn't tell me was that I was crazy,
that I was lazy,
Because what they told me was I would be fine.

But all they've done is make me crazy,
make me mad and desperate for relief from shame
shame that I shouldn't have for needing help
shame that I shouldn't have for bleeding out
shame that I shouldn't have for opening up
but it is a shame that I bear
because they told you I was crazy
and they told you I was shady.

I'm just me. And I'm having trouble being that today.
So please don't tell me that I'm crazy,
because I'm actually quite nice
I'm actually quite fun.
If you'd bothered to get to know me
you would have known all this stuff.
But you didn't.
Because you believed them when they told you I was crazy.