Scratchy plaid blanket Red with yellow stripes Hot and itchy underneath Claustrophobia strikes Purple and blue prisms
Her fingernails Natural Long Pointed On fingers
The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying
Didn’t they know that people cared? That they were loved? Why didn’t someone tell them?
Why can’t I choose to be somewhere in the middle? Surrounded by extremes Measure everything With a grain of salt
I’m watching a woman in a bikini In great shape with a swollen bell… Play with her puppy named Gatsby A Hispanic family comes The little girl dips her feet in
The teenage rebels All fall in line Be they hippies Goths, rockers or skaters Moving from one mould
How can I write how I feel When what I feel is nothing? How can I tell you what I need, What is wrong? When what is wrong
Love is sincere Sincerely Wanting to connect Love makes you crazy Insanity that makes you fly
My soft spot My sweet boy I’d do anything for Who convinced me Little boys are the best
Life is good A little luxury A cup of coffee Served with toast Consumed lazily
If I could draw a tree In all it’s complexity Would you be impressed? If I could draw a human face It would be but a trace
The more you treat me like a nag The more I become one I’m sorry if I micromanage Your clean clothes Your hot meals
How do I Catch your interest? Once again I know You are bored with me
I cannot apologize For writing what I feel inside If it is hard to read It is harder to live I will understand