I wish I could take a scalpel to this head... To release the tension... To peel back the layers... And to dig inside. Even it's just for a moment... So I can finally see... What it's relentlessly trying to hide.
I'm tired of seeing faces covered with dirty masks... All emotion now hidden by cotton subtasks.
I've become blinded to my own reflection... Clear beauty miraged by my own self-deception.
My mirror must just be mistaken. It's flimsy glass full of errors and deformations... Innocently creating ripples and alterations. It just has to be the reason why that the beautiful girl you see... Is nowhere close to the same girl that's appearing only to me.
Like balloons we float with string tails following our lead... Careless and free. But if my air is expelled and I begin to sink... Can I count on you to follow me?
Fragments of myself have been hovering, Suspended above me in my own abyss of isolation. And all this time I've been trying so hard to grab ahold of them, Repeatedly reaching out in acts of desperation. But every time I grasped to catch them... My own touch had just pushed them farther away.
Pitch black and quarter to twelve, we walked on the beach barefoot on shells. Stars guided our path to low tide, the oncoming waves slowing our strides. My blonde hair had been tangled in the breeze... But we still stood to take in all we couldn't see.
When you're staring across the room what do you see? Is it really only her... Or are you just imagining me?
These pagesI write aremore than whatyou see... Because I am a keeper of my dreams, and a hoarder of my memories.
I lay here tonightin another insomniac dream. Thinking about another time where it's just you and only me.