Untitled 34

Laundry basket eyes telling me it's time to leave.

Stay.

While I chase the dreams to hold my feet on the ground.

So damn queer,

do you really give a shit.

I'm waiting to believe.

Muddy tears running down my face.

Stay inside while I drive the pain to you.

Painting means nothing to you.

Painting means about as much as me.

Waiting outside for the chance to go in.

Forked in stone,

wasting time,

so I shove it in.

Hold me down.

It's sickness I have and a touch I want.

If it was half a breath

would you give it to me?

Or keep it for yourself,

saving you from drowning.

Hunting, Hide.

Seeking, Find.

Lost in my own chaotic dillusion of hipness.

Misinterpretation

meandered inside.

Hold and wait.

I don't believe in you.

You can't hurt me anymore.