I can't tell if you see me
Like I see you
Like I like you
Like something
Something touching
My mind touching you
Like you don't realize
And hopefully I dont realize
Because it's all a guess
A guess is a guess
Until that guess
That little guess
Becomes your touch
Like that touch
That little touch
Becomes my touch to you
To you I might be nothing
But a touch untouched
And all that could have been
Oh what could be before the time
The time after a neglected touch.

I am funny.  Most people are miserable being alone, but I am happy.  It's when I get too close to someone, my misery begins.  I was once the type of person that could be manipulated and controlled, kind of like a machine.  I know now that I can control the machine without making up a bolt to the bigger machine I like to call corporate america.  Most people in this country are so fucked they don't even realize it.  That's for another rant though.  Anyways, I like being away from people, but when I need some good anger to draw from, then I start talking to people.

Sometimes I wish for something a little too unreachable.  Those wishes become something I talk about too much, whether in subtle, or quite obvious ways.  My wishes turn into investigation, and investigation sometimes gets written off as mere gossip.  I do not think too much about possible possibilities that could come from doing this.  It is dangerous, or risky (socially) I should say.  When we begin to want something, we talk about it, but for this kind of thing, only a fool would mention it.  Silence is sometimes best.

Theres a window I know

3:00 o'clock ticks the clock

the clock, my window

shines a bright stretch of beaming sunlight

across the wooden floor to my face.

Upon my face the day's star stares at me

blinding me in a room of dark.

my room of dark with a spot of bright light

light bright enough to blind.

I've become familiar with this friend of mine

this friend of mine in one square

letting me know there is relief under this red rock

this red rock ironically being cold and dark.

the world of cold and dark disappears under my red rock.

under my red rock, the sun shines through my window.

my window has become my oasis in the world of my desolation.