Meantime

Lacking inspiration
and flipping through diary pages,
I'm searching for you name
or I'm waiting for your voice.

If I can't calm myself down
or shut those noises up,
it'll make him right
and me a fool.

Now pacing frantically
and squirming in my skin,
can you see what's left of me
through the charred mask that is my face?

Short of breathe
and in pain from head to toe,
it's as if nothing soft makes sense
and nothing right feels good.

But I know there's a lesson in here to learn somewhere,
where I hid it for safe keeping,
and I hear it when you whistle,
but I lose it when you leave.

When I wake, this it plays in my head:
it makes perfect sense
and it's more than a jingle,
but something I can't hold.

This music saved my life
as it reached out and pulled me in,
so I'll know it when I hear it
and I'll miss it in the meantime.

*********************************************

^ Shit's on my mind, but it's only shit. ^

I'm coming up on a milestone in another month or so and I'm not sure how I feel about it or if it's appropriate to consider it a milestone at all. It's just another day. I won't feel much different. If anything, I may feel more trapped. Should I just forget about it, then? Should I just throw the day out of my memory? I wish I didn't still feel so dirty. I wish I weren't still lying to all but a handful of my closest friends.

It really makes little difference, though. It comes and goes, as everything does.


"For a change she got out before he hurt her bad, took her records and clothes and pictures of her boy. It really made her sad, packed it up and didn't look back. I'm okay. Let's just forget about him." - Elliott Smith No Name # 4