I've had this poem hidden since July 14, 2004. I just re-read it, and thought maybe I should make it public for a little bit.



 throughout the catacombs of my life I've noticed a trend
I don't ever get what I want

intuition evades me when I should lend it my ear
and promises are only kept if I make them myself

I've learned to fabricate friends from the dolls in my dreams
but the same dolls are also in my nightmares
I've wasted all my wishes on burnt-out stars
and my ladder to the moon fell a few feet too short

so I'm picking up the pieces
that you threw down in front of me
and you don't deserve an explanation

I want myself back
you can't use me anymore
I choose me over you

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