when no on hates you more than your reflection.

the rocks you kick, are the stones i've thrown. your warehouse needed some fresh air. if i wasn't such a pessimist i'd be alive by now. living isn't much when you don't feel it. when you can't make your way through the situations that have made you, you. that were supposed to build character, have installed chips on your sholders, and landmines in your daily rountine. i wouldn't mind blowing this popsicle stand. the rocks i'll kick, will be the stones you've built your happy homes on. for starters, i'm the burying hatchets next to the phone numbers. yeah, i've lost some sleep this year.

sicken.

the word "hate" has never sat well on my tongue, always insincere when i use it. but i hate this feeling. i'm always the fool, the joke. the sad joke, i've never been taken seriously. i'm sick of it. fuck you.

respite from sadness.

hallucinations due to nights lacking sleep. due to sleep lacking dreams. this is not the break i was referring to. i'm talking about the air quality. i need to see from the stars, top down. i need to stretch my arms, my legs, far and wide. above the atmosphere. and find a home that doesn't hold me like a burden. but a brand new day. i need this.

sleeping dogs.

when your secrets are only secret because no one cares.
when you feel like a liar when you smile.
when you don't want to go to sleep.
when you don't want to wake up.
when your best days are dreams.
when you can't stand your reflection.
when you crave escape more and more each day.
fuck off life.

no resolution.

when will i learn? when will i change? optimistic? pipe-dreamer? sucker? all apply. i don't think it's wasted time. regret is waste, i've wasted too much already. but i've seized days at the wrong time, and now second guess myself, too much, too little. it's hard to tell when you're always wasting. words are forming in the back of my head, dying before they get to the frontline. gold mine-field. i wish i couldn't sleep sometimes, living in dreams is counter productive. procrastination life. i need an escape plan.

i fear, i swear.

one million thoughts a second. my mouth trips over my mind, my mind trips up my heart. my heart trips over everything. i fall for anything. piano wire or heart strings. a cut rate nobody, think about it. i'm working on wings. wheels. can't slow down. won't hold back...liar. shut up, sit down, you won't get far. if you can't get out of your head. get out of my head. an ipod dj at a self-pity party, taking requests.

home: the concept.

over the years i've given up on a lot. one thing though, that i've always kept, was my eventual escape plan. i've always wanted to get away, other side of the fence syndrome. it's not that hard to think like that when you feel so out of place. when the only ones that really know you aren't around. when there aren't that many that really know you. and even less that appreciate you. people are like, well people. and i may sound like a cynic, but people mostly suck. i've let too many good ones slip from my life, another regret.