who

no one throws himself into hell
just to do it


there's a slew of upper level wishes
this lower level wish cannot comply with


everyone faces a challenge, repeat
everyone faces a challenge

 guess I'll be trying to make sense of me for others forever

breadcrumbs

You didn't care to follow the trail of breadcrumbs that I left
So I threw a loaf at you
You didn't much enjoy that

~~~~~

God dammit, again.

Excessive, eh?

I can hold my tongue for a little while, but

what is this feeling building in my gut?

Sitting alone all day,

it's sad.

It's only sad because I wanted to do things.

But now I'm stuck.

Fuck.

But honestly, I feel like nothing is going to come across right.

Dammit.

Excessive.

...

love for the sake of loving— knows no bounds
and neither does the pain of being denied

Between moments and thought

Nothing is sufficient, nothing explains
Every moment, a list of things I could say
Every moment the list is changing

There are a few things I can hold on to for weeks
Hope of love is one
But even that tends to die

Every day, a book. Every day a book.
And she cannot read this book.
But I feel that transference should occur.
Maybe she could read it in my face, or my voice.
But she seems disinterested.

For each moment, a filter over my speech.
A different filter for a different set of ears.
But I wish that I could say everything,
but no one is that interested,
no one has that kind of time.