Monday, November 7, 2016

They say I'm depressed



They say I'm depressed and they ask me why
I can't tell them; I won't even try
I used to smile while inside I'd cry
But I can't even smile now

They want to discuss which pills I should take
That will make me whole instead of a flake
There's just one thing I need for God's sake
But I can't figure out how

There was this someone I used to talk to
Whenever I was feeling a little bit blue
But she won't talk to me so what can I do
Can I go back to sleep now?

We used to have fun times, this girl and I
Now there's hardly even a hi
And I'm so sad that I can't even cry
No energy to cry anyhow

So if they get me dope I'll take it I guess
What's one more escape from the truth or less
There's nothing wrong I can fix in this mess
So I guess onward I plow

Can I have some drugs now? Can I have more sleep?
The things I have sowed can I start to reap?
One way or the other I'm into this deep
Can I just talk to her now?

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

My Space is Full











I need to sit down and
write, and get rid of piles of
stuff on and off line that
clutters my space, the space
where everything happens.
Except it doesn't.
There can be nothing in the
way, nothing in my ears,
nothing in my eye, not
even a mote, and nothing
up my sleeve, no tricks
and no treats spilling
out for those i wish
were striking my pinata
and trying to bust me open.
But those people no longer
come out swinging when
I'm hanging around, so
instead I eat cream cheese
sandwiches and type complete
sentences of tripe into a
non-distraction environment
that's distracting me from
the fact that the one I'd
rather be writing for will
never read this anyway.
And no, you aren't the one.
My space is already empty.