It’s 2:26pm and my ears are ringing..
Someone must be thinking of me singing..
My heads like a bowl of oatmeal
Nothing to think of, nothing to feel..
I lost my sanity after 3 hours of sleep
And after that nightmare, I’ve a secret to keep

Insomniac depressive, underlying aggressive
Murky water minded, daydream blinded..

Marked by the waters of my dreams
When I wake up, nothing’s as it seems..
Blasted by daylight in my hangover of lack
Where everything’s sparkly, and I’m taken back..
Cigarettes make dragons to fly through my room
As I smoke myself into my usual daily doom
My best friend calls me a fucking romantic slut..
And I decide to just keep that freak closet shut..
Sunbeams rise and dim the ambience of my room..
As I deal with another day of dealing with my doom..
To die penniless and poor, a pad and paper in my bedside drawer..
Poems and words scribbled in old mans script
From my death to the cradle, from the birth to the crypt..
A life of a poet is never waster, I say
As long as he tries to write a poem everyday..
Masked in words are the inner thoughts of me..
Even though I play them off as false visions of reality..
I try to lie, and say these aren’t my real emotions..
But I have more moods, than waves in the oceans..
I have more dreams than fish in the sea..
And all this is here…lurking. inside of me.

11/29/2003

Author's Note: I really dug this one... maybe you see what I mean...I just liked the style in this one, not to mention what it had to say...

Posted on 11/29/2003
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