Illusion

Playing peek-a-boo,
I see you
but won't admit
you matter.
Why?
Would it make a difference?
I see it
yet I can't admit.
I feel it
yet I can't vocalize.
I need it
yet I'm not ready.

written plea

I write this down
to get you out.
My mind is too small
for you to bombard.
Obsessive, maybe
but I try to be more.
I write this down
to change myself.

Runaway train

I spin in countless circles,
never sure why.
Cohen speaks more kindly
of past lovers than I do.
He's reached by simple things.
They never understood.
No one made love to my mind.
No one leashed my attention.
Passing trains
are too commonday anymore.
Block my tracks with your body,
maybe I'll slow down.

My Sweet Library

I'm returning the book that you lent me. I'm not sure that we subscribe to the same ideas. I'm returning the attention and the compliments. They are almost brand new, I never took them out of the wrapper. Also I threw in the miscellaneous memories of confusion and disappointment, man they barely fit in the box! They are all in ziplocks based on incident, I know how you like controlled chaos. I know all of this is way overdue, I will pay whatever charges I owe you today.

it's a bit typical

I spent 20 minutes
trying to be perfect,
only to realize
I was no better than you.
Watching through the window
I saw you as the wolf
not the sheep you claimed.
I see a lot of myself
in the masks that you wear.
This disgusts me,
yet I return.

Mainly because

Pretend I told you a story that was actually interesting. Like something that pulled you in, and amazed you in a way that no one else ever has. I had your undivided attention for ten full minutes. During this time you begin to wonder what must go on in a crazy brain like mine. Who I am I? What do I want? Is this really me or a hardened shell of the girl that I used to be prior to the storms and fires? You go on with your business after my story. We never speak again and this is fine. I'm comfortable with this because I know that for ten minutes I was the only thing that you could think about.

Twin

She clings to my leg,
pleading and pitiful.
The harder I kick,
the deeper her nails dig.
I've been waiting to unload
the burden of myself.
No takers?
Figures.
I drag her through mud,
across pavement,
through nights of torment.
Bloody and bruised,
she begs I never leave her.