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These nights I stare and want things I don�t understand and look out windows listening to empty and miss things I can�t put a name to I want I want I want I want I need arms to hug and hold and a voice telling me I understand like raindrops falling on a window giving something like something cold I can feel and let me be empty let me drain and not need and which would you rather empty hand or heart but I want something full or empty or somehow both and

If this made sense I wouldn�t need to write it now would I but if I ever come back and read it will I cry or break something or will I just stare empty at the place where I used to be thinking things couldn�t be better well not much well actually things suck most of the time I just get used to it

Do you forgive me for losing my heart it slips away easier than my head though that goes quick too when the street moves too slowly to keep me busy I need to run and fly once and I need to swim in deep water with bubbles in my nose until I can rebound from the bottom and gulp sweet air and remember how much better it is to be used to being grateful for where you aren�t instead of looking higher at the diving board

No one is a swan I know they stretch their necks and try to pale and soar but everyone wishes and curses the glossy white picture teeth because even she hasn�t been Ms. Troy yet hey Helen where do you hide your complex can I see it

Five minute happy bunny then trips in mud and bam you�re a basilisk where the hell can you find your inner toad that�s hideous but doesn�t care I�m not sinking or screaming I�m just wandering floating thinking maybe this will help somehow but hello miss sober queen since when were you special you bitch hypocrite fish belly girl saying woman and running child looking askance you marshmallow at people who dislike while you hate the dislikers and build your own pedestal cause no one�s got it ready for you with your neck so high

Are you Plath miss Tori Morrison Toni Amos Sylvia girl damn are you Beloved much Berlioz lover he was probably sick and scary and are you Ophelia yet do you want to be that dust mop lady people sigh over but no one breaks the glass to push the buttons inside it�s too late the music is written and are you forty oh god I never knew what a surprise thank you for loving me kind sir here�s a nickel would have been a quarter mister slow on the uptake aren�t you where were you twenty years ago when I was still Ophelia and who wants that well other than me

I�ve decided its really not everyone else who wants me perfect because then they�d feel bad but I want perfect because it�d be comfy until I saw my new flaw

I�m not sad really I�m lifting higher each letter because this might be a good day after all the three hours left of it that is music heals everything for at least four minutes

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