If you can't put words
To the pain and fear you feel,
Lose yourself in some good music
Until you start to heal.

Supressed feelings, this is unimaginable pressure.
Roaming around with happiness, with the greatest treause,
Though I'm showing it slightly,
that never lets me get as loose.

Hiding it and hiding it, unintentionally and uncontrollably,
Creates the biggest void, and maybe leaves you wih some ruins of what you used to be.
It's hard living in a world where I'm not like I want to be...

I need some screws, a little help, to put myself back together,
And I have to be careful, to not make myself sadder.

I know, I know, somewhere under These layers I won't see a void,
But I'm going to be complete as I used To be.

Play her a simple melody.

Will write things with her movement.
Two thousand silent words with her body.

Has always been one with words.
Studies the curves of their backs and the lengths or their tails.

Her books climb ladders to the top shelf by themselves, everything needed bounded to their spine.

Keeps her teardrops in a jar by the bedside.
Lies awake, counting them.
Only reads her favorite stories, over and over,
until she falls asleep.

The mind of an insomniac is always in pain.

Favoring the moon? Or the sun?
One dies when the other is born.

Things inside my closet pt.1

Four blue walls, four pink walls, three yellow walls, one green.
Moved everything across the hall got paint on the ceiling,

put pictures on the wall.

Went away, came back.
Took pictures off the wall, photographs of strangers.

Put them in a box, back of the closet.

She told me once that skeletons sleep there.

Seems peaceful.

Out of sight, never mind.

Lost my home, but found a new one.

If you lose yourself, check my closet.



a.bee