Looking up at the ceiling;
Its all I could do to keep myself busy. Sometimes I'll find myself staring into walls trying to think of what to think of. Sometimes, everything just feels like a ******* mess. My room, my face, my clothes, my body, my hair, my head. I try to clean it up, but where tf am I supposed to put all this ****??

You are the almost-silent
of my coffee-stained summer.
You are the clear and tender
plucking of guitar strings
on a lazy afternoon;

With sunlight streaming through
the painted window,
just bright enough to fill the room
but gentle enough to fall asleep to;

with the smell of everything we love—
caffeine and chocolate and banana muffins—
seemingly coursing through our veins
with every breath we take;

with the daydream of
what-could-be lingering
in the haze, in the silence
it sits,
it waits.

I proceed to the only thing
I know how to do
at this hour of day:
I stare at the cars passing by,
all the while wishing
I was staring at you instead.

I couldn't help but notice,
your staring at me again.

With the look of disgust,
plastered on your face.

A blank look of hatred,
boiling in your eyes.

I just wanted to say thank you,
for showing me your true colors.

Immovable, my hatred towards you for leaving.

My feelings are a thing of the past, so are you.
In case you're wondering, I never fixed the clock after the outage.
Sitting here staring at the blinking 10:32 at 5:03 AM, I hate you.
Something in common we have: we need fixing.

Yet we keep blinking and staring, waiting to stop hating you.
Out there, do you think of me as her head lays on your chest?
U*nchanging, my mood is as I look at old photos but...
                                    
                     ­             *So what?

a ride on the bus
sitting in the back row
staring out windows

Why are you staring at me?
Have you ever seen a white person before?
Were everywhere galore
I know the other races think were deplorable
But really I'm just that guy who minds his own buissness
What, do you think I'm cute or adorable?
If so, take a picture
I hears it lasts longer
But that could just be me

I see you now,
Looking at me through a broken window,
The stare,
A stare,
Just...

Stare.

You saw my heart,
My thoughts,
Theories,
Dreams.

...dreams

Criticise me,
Talk behind my back, acting natural when I prepare a death glance.
You're better then me,
You wear prade shoes, high fasion make-up,
ONLY branded clothes.
But yet I have a perfect personality,
A way of being someone's favourite, without buying their respect.
Yet I know how to be a friend, not just a "made in china" barbie doll in a second-hand box.

You're better than me in every way,
Because you have money.

Money made you, right?
So let's see if it can take you away.

Just a dream of yesterday,
Thought you'd like some insight to my life...
XoXo

staring, staring, staring
off into the distance
you assume my gaze is fixed at the wall
but i see a different world
im staring with my heart
not my eyes