I hate the silences in-between your broken off sentences.
We were never complete.
 


I listen for nothing and hear everything.
I whisper words but you here some things.
And it can’t be explained. When there is no explanation.
To why one day the light perfects brightness, and one day you’re crawling back inside that hole.




I stand apart between a different reality and myself.
Constantly fighting within between the past and the future.
Seeing everything with a twist of complexity and a sure desire for simplicity.
You think it’s so easy to see it how it is.
I guess it never was black and white for me.







Grey was always my color anyway.







I question everything, without any room for it to question itself.
I contemplate its shape and color before you could ever realize what it was all along.
I scream words and run in circles around myself.
I create disasters and watch everything fall.
I build the sand castle purposely close to the ocean tide.



If it was only that easy to wash my life away…




I color question marks with highlighters. Because in my world it stands out more than anything.
I study solutions to problems and get caught in the details before I ever realized that it was right all along.
I write stories on a bathroom wall to tell you something while your pulling off the toilet paper.
It would be a miracle if you understood everything before you flushed it all down the drain.



Walk away. It’d be easier just to leave now before I settle.




I describe myself as nothing, but realize I know everything before people even see the outcome of a problem that I could have explained years ago.
And I find myself drifting farther away from sandy tides, secluding myself farther from the things that kept me whole for so long.



Color me in pencil. I only wish to be erased after I’m finally completed.




I watched the mist from a mid September rain fall over foggy skies, and it was like a town graveyard.
Everything was quiet, silent.
And the world was grey.
Except for the distant headlights coming through the opaque dust, creating a light for the world while the sun stayed asleep late that day.





In my eyes I thought it was beautiful.
But grey was always my color.




I tainted the world with a touch and bled out my soul through the static on the radio.
I listened to the singing of a bird that was far too annoying to stand.
I studied the earth and the moon, wrote down a story for each day.
And I grew a flower and watched the petals close at night, as if it went to sleep, too.



I’d give you a part of me, if you’d only understand.
I’m coming undone through the pages of ink, and you’re bleeding out your soul through every one.



I’m running farther away from this world that spins so delicately, while I’m trapped in this snow globe spinning frantically.
If I could save myself, I’m sure you wouldn’t have gotten this far.




I drown in the cracks of the sidewalks.
Pick myself up like shattered glass.
And walk away like it was all pretend.
Forgetting anything ever happened.
That we ever started a conversation in the first place.




And I feel as if your face is covered with lies.
That were all running from something to someplace where we can be real.
As if this isn’t.




And maybe it’s not.
But it’s the only place we have.
Puppets trying to break the strings.




And I guess I broke them all.




But freedom is a bitter taste.
And I’d rather be down in that hole.
Circling the recent bruises with my fist.
Knowing that black and blue isn’t just make believe.






And I’ve picked myself up as best as I can.
Overanalyzing every piece that I’ve broke off in the past few months.
Placing myself back together.
Watching the river, smoking a cigarette.









Watching a little girl build a sandcastle close to the ocean.







As she whispers in my ear.




“If.It.Was.Only.That.Easy.






To.Wash.My.Life.Away.”

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