there's something wrong, i can feel it in my bones, but i can't pinpoint the source.

i hate the way you come home smelling of stuff you know isn't good for you, but i don't think you really bother.

the way they pile up like sand over sand, hardening, and piling up again.

the way it smothers you? its insidiously evil.

sand's an impurity. and im thinking of electrolysis, or electricity.

but its just the way it saps off hope that's disheartening. sometimes there's just things you don't have the brain for.

sleeping at all the wrong times.

tiredness that seeps. wee.

like joy luck club and all the altered happy endings. a little fake feeling?

still, helplessness beams. its clear like water. whatever the bond.

and you know they say sometimes literature is just an escape.

i know you're lonely, i don't dare to do anything. pride, i think.

okay

i tried, in the least. hope you're better.

movement on the dance floor. its more than meets the eye, really.

if i knew it cost so much - maybe...

maybe its just the frail me. brittleness? like porcelain. we all know they break

a tornedo spins, brings along everything in its path in a merry go ride.

they teach us there's an eye in the middle

like an oasis in the desert??

i sweat a lot, i tire easily. its a condition from heaven?

it is beautiful?

i see perfectly fine (with glasses), but there are some things im blind to.

sometimes its the fear that drives escapism in a jaguar (is that how you spell it?). posh cars

i know its escapism when im here even when im not supposed to

"whatever" counts too, i suppose.

feeling that loads lately. i don't like feelings.

wondering why you try your best but you still can't touch the monkey bar.

funny how it bothers me more now then in my childhood.

i miss my dangerous bicycle rides. i miss the wind in my hair.

i dare not miss what i cannot hold.

yea i'll stop

and i thought thought thought thought thought thought,
that you could think your sorrows away.



help me see you are bigger than all of these.