another song: ORANGE THUMB

It's one of those nights. I'm tiered and alone. And yes I meant that. Stuck up in a room staring at the screen that won't type its self. The door lies wide open. No one who walks by speaks. The energy has been drained from every pulsating pore in my body. The songs are catchy...and hmm...so is that other person who isn't me. There are two types of women out there I desire to be and will come to forget. My clothes don't match, my hair doesn't lay straight and he doesn't make me free, they don't make me free-I'm never free. Give me a glance. I have forgotten about it, forgotten it as much as I was suppose to forgive Monday. Eyes are heavy. You sigh another time. Times passing like always, like always you're wishing you could make it fly and freeze. Speak to me, please. Without a touch is neglect. Too much touch is abuse. No words I am lost. Too much words, I am confused. Where does the road bend, curve and go upside down? This is a pitstop right? Hows come I smell no fuel? Maybe I'll guzzle some water. Maybe I'll go out and buy some pants. Will they sparkle as much as theirs? Enough make-up will do it right? Enough. Enough. Enough. Enough. Say goodbye to the Bonnie's and Becky's, say hello to...where ever it is I'm going. I wish you would whisper to me your secrets. O GOD I'M A MESS! School isn't worth it, my job can't pay it. Am I drowning? Everything is going blurry. Till that day, that moment in time when everything will be more than fine. When I will no longer be defined by relationships and status and that annoying word called "kind". We will laugh and we will cry, cry from the joy it is to finally be together again. I am not lost, this track is not too badly cut. My heart burst forward with song and more righteous blood will project the vision I want to inquire. Take me with you and ask me to stay...till the end of days. Is anyone listening? Does everyone read the words so blatantly said? IT'S TIME TO GROW UP KID! Time to pick up your gun....and wait, that's not how the fairy tale ends. Some nights, but more like days, feel like a dream. Those seams of time stitch up a torn fabricated heart.