Note I

Sing me to sleep as i lay my head to rest. Help me pretend i will be alright and remind me the world still turns. My mom tells me i have a tortured soul; a rebel heart. But no one knows that here. Except my sister, but she still tries to think the best. So i am thinking of taking a year off and living in the trees, by the ocean. Off of coffee beans and wild fruit and my own skin. Then maybe i'll get it together. Or at least claim something of my own. But i'll probly go to art school and get mixed up with turpentine and dusty charcoal finger paints and have different lovers who mix like the colors on canvas, over lapping and combining. In the end i know it will be a masterpiece.

After this weekend i remember all the reasons why not. You should have sent dead flowers. It would have been the same effect. If you dont grow up, we will never go anywhere. I am sorry we have halted. We have fallen. and now all we can do is crawl towards what we hope is still there, buried beneath the snow and autumn leaves. The seed that was planted that warm august.

I can hear myself swallow. But my heart fails to beat. My coffee stays warm but never my feet.

If you could only see the way he loves me. Then you would understand. But for now you all suffocate, every one of you. Its all or none. Get along damn it. Listen to me. And it would all make sense. But your assumptions are suffocating. All of your assumptions. An evil word with roots deeper then thought. They stay with the mind for sometime. They poison all the time and hard work. For so long i have tried to redeem my self but i continue to live in the shadows of yesterday. and maybe your right. Maybe i have no idea what i am doing. but that is the way i wish to be. A wanderer on a beaten trail. each step my own claim of independence. My very own life blood and body. Just my own and I would be so proud. At least i would be that. But you dont understand. You say you know much more than I, right from wrong. All the yes's line up, and all my no's do too. But maybe i will be okay if you just let me breath with my own lungs.

I am strangled. A strangled soul.
Growing bitter with the chocking weeds. For they take my sunshine and steel my rain. Those jewels that drip from the corner of my eyes. Let me be. Let me find my own home in this mess. The mess, let me remind you, you have created. But thank you, for i like the person i have become. Although you do not. i am alive on my own. more alive then they all know.

I am just a dreamer. Or maybe im on to something.

When the weathers nice. people walk slow. slower than before. the new air lifting their feet.