Just one time. Just one time I wish it would stick. So much faux happening that I am lost in what might be real. I guess one time is all it would really take therefore signifying the importance of so many required fails. FAIL. Just one word. Just one string of words is all I wish for. Words of substance and meaning....of emotion and desire....passion and obsession. Want ONE. Want TWO. Want THREE. Want FOUR. Want MORE. Why can't I have more? I am not asking for apple pie. I am asking for some more. A bowl full of bite size brownies. All I got was some amazing tasting crumbs. Normally at this point in time I would be doing something that I would regret later. Something has changed in me....or has it?
Monday, January 18, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
You See It's Too Much To Ask For AND I Am Not The Doctor.
I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours.
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey, hidden in the bottom drawer.
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine.
Lend me some fresh air!
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you.
I don't want to be your babysitter; you're a very big boy now.
I don't want to be your mother; I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months.
Show me the back door!
I don't want to be the sweeper of the egg shells that you walk upon.
I don't want to be your other half; I believe that 1 and 1 make 2.
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face at midnight.
Hey! What are you hungry for?
I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together.
I don't want to be your idol, see this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights.
I don't want to be lived through, a vicarious occasion.
Please open the window!
I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week.
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart, and it's wounded beat.
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling.
What do you thank me…what do you thank me for?
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6, will I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in?
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom…
Dedicated to MABI don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey, hidden in the bottom drawer.
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine.
Lend me some fresh air!
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you.
I don't want to be your babysitter; you're a very big boy now.
I don't want to be your mother; I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months.
Show me the back door!
I don't want to be the sweeper of the egg shells that you walk upon.
I don't want to be your other half; I believe that 1 and 1 make 2.
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face at midnight.
Hey! What are you hungry for?
I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together.
I don't want to be your idol, see this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights.
I don't want to be lived through, a vicarious occasion.
Please open the window!
I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week.
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart, and it's wounded beat.
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling.
What do you thank me…what do you thank me for?
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6, will I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in?
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom…
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