cluttering the net since 2001

when want is a nothing

Wednesday, Jul. 23, 2003

My friend Greg always paints into reality some of the things I feel.
I feel like I'm taken for granted, misunderstood, used, neglected, hurtful, angry, heartless, heartbroken, frustrated, lonely, alone, not alone, aggitated, undermedicated, over medicated, disgusted with human beings, enamoured with human beings, lost on a big piece of white paper, found hanging dead from the blue line of my battered notebook. I am attractive to strangers, detested by the one I love, imagined to be better, trying to be the best. I am overlooking what I want, because I just want to be what he needs. I am mortal, I am dead, I am gone, I am still here. I am in love, I am not loved, I love love in the beginning, the end comes too quick. I didn't think it would end, but maybe it has and being threatened with it always, its like I myswell be gone. I am holding my suitcase, I am packing my sorrow, I am throwing out garbage, I will find it again tomorrow. I am asked out, I am pushed out. I am used, I am not wanted. I am sick, I am ill, I am better at my own will. I am searching, I am blinded. Someone was there, now I'm finding that I am gone when I see him and when he's gone I am right there. I keep trying to fix it, and I fix a new mess, I am patching and pasting and he's still far more than I am to closeness. I am angry, I am silent. When I'm loud, I am violent. I'm chartreuse when I'm bitter, I am flying free like thrown away junk litter. I am broken, I am perfect, I am a token of thine own regret. I am blue, I am tomorrow, I am black I am sorrow. I am wasting, I am thin mannered, I am chasing the tin hammered. I remember what click is, I'm clacking away quickness. I am still right here waiting, I am thin on your ice skating. I am ice cream in summer, still cold mittened by winter. I am cracked open like cardboard, scribbled on by the masses. My heart is still homeless, this worlds full of asses. I'm gone away hiding, then back again lying. I'm lost and I'm dying, I'm never found never denying. I admit it with vigor, I'd take my pills with my liquor, I'd tell only the truth from my heart made loud and clear through a broken windowed red telephone distanced booth. I am nothing, you're something am I enough for your one thing. Will I ever measure up to your needs with my regurgitated song sing? Do you hear my sad notes when I say silence is rusty and my voice is all dusty and the truth is I love you more than you give me love in return. I'm not measured by clock ticks, I'm not rushing to the alter of tongue flicks...I just want to be me and be treasured, your one cling. I want to walk silent and be heard, run with speed like a horse herd. I want to be mingled through parties, dined in the bedsheets. I want to be the rain on your flowers, that gathers and follows your movements from one path to the next. I want to stop wanting because there's nothing more for me to envy, when want is a nothing, then I will be free.
7:35 p.m. ::
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