Monday, November 2, 2009

if you could you would draw outside of your lines
and instead of trying
get right onto knowing and being
that group of things you need just to see
that you've been waiting to find hiding behind your own eyes
or dug up in a logan square park crying for months at a time

without even knowing

I spend weeks here and there disconnecting
a journal knows maybe half of me
if I can hide from myself accidentally
imagine who I am to the rest of the people
whose relationships I've grown so good at ignoring without knowing
the time he spent in spain that we spent growing
the fred's mother leaving a wake of upset stomachs to match her own
while dylan jones relearns to walk under the weight of his home
we can get together once a month and know how much we need one another
haven't seen ian in an eon but I keep my right eye on his heart like a brother
along with a couple more who I shall not name
so that the last time I see peter he's on his face
and G whispers in my ear to go fuck myself
so now I think it's this place but what if it's just me
no matter how mean-hearted her whisper must be
it ricochets around inside of my head for more than weeks
until it comes back finally, tired and beat
to remind me I've hurt some people
that the hooks I use to bait friends can be too sharp sometimes
that being lonely and miserable never was charming

but you need to know that I am trying
that I'm tired of feeling insane
and if I knew the difference between acting like myself
and being me


I would use all the help I could get.

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