cluttering the net since 2001


Friday, Feb. 15, 2002

Look at all this bullshit writing that ends up trashing up my email because I email my half done poetical thoughts to myself! What a bad habit I have. Itís all crap. I should just delete it.


It doesnít matter that I love you
Or that I want you to be a part of me
It seems that the more I walk towards you
The less and less of you I see


I have moments when I wonder what
it is like to be blissfully numb
on an emotional level.

All of my feelings are
right at the surface of my skin.
Touch me mentally
and I'll jump at the pain of the shock.
For it happens rarely

Iím not a normal person
Nor am I living in abnormal sin
Iím just not like anyone else
In fact
Iím not even sure I myself
Have a ticket to my own soul
For I donít know how
To let you or anyone else in

And each time someone sneaks by
The closed door at the gate
I wonder how they managed on the fly
And thatís one thing that I hate

Iím distant as a nightmare in the sun
And as wicked as sex in the rain
Iím no one you will ever stun
And yet you can cause me the most pain

I sometimes rhyme and make no sense
And then I say something brilliant
I mostly donít try to write
To please
And yet my thin skin is quite

Iím sometimes up and
Then Iím down and always
I am wondering who can
Pick me up
And turn me inside out
Or make me flip back
Taking me until I turn around


Maybe everything is
More the perfected lie
At 4 a.m.

Maybe everyone is
The exception
Of expectation
When youíve
Entered delirium

Maybe Iím the
Answer to your
Every wonder


Curling up
With strangers
Seems better than
Opening up to
A friend

When text is
Something intense
And the speed of
Understanding is
My best defense


Guitars on walls
And a book
Dog eared by
Mental lust

Sparse and spare
And not much of
Much there as
Souls lay bare


I tried to imagine
Lips caressing themselves
Around words

Legs entwined
In the sheets
Words followed
By the whispers
Or was it just the
Intelligence of
The Sharpest exhales
Ever heard

Iím failing at
Capturing mental
Snippets like photographs


Iíll never capture
The feeling
Hours from this
I knew it then and this
Is the only this I can paint
About mental bliss


2:17 p.m. ::
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