i cannot help but be awake. the tiny raindrops are falling outside this bedroom window. a bedroom belonging to none other than the person i long for the most. the real me. the unedited version who sees nothing more than beauty beyond the first glace. how desperately voided her life has become. thoughts come and go as those of strangers in our life. focus on one part, ignore the rest. that’s right isn’t it. no. not really. it’s what they want you to believe. What we’re taught in the class of self-help. bullshit i say, loud and yet so quite that not even i believe my words. how true spoke the gentleman who visits me in my dreams ever so often. how true purrs the cat who passes by the house looking for food. and yet in the very slim chance of things, simple sporadic thoughts, run into one another. emphasis on simple. something has to encompass this brainless nit. for far and subdued are her life choices. only you. only you. only you. if you say it or write it enough maybe you will believe it. only you can change yourself. do this for you. only you. what if i don’t have enough like in my to want to do that. what if i need an outside force besides that, the love of a mother, besides that. i don’t. i can’t. i probably won’t ever.
