Listening to the voices outside my window
Unfamiliar to me, but unmistakable to those surrounding them
The voices of the person in the other room
I could tell that voice out of a crowd in an instant
How individual the voices are that linger into our ears
Within our souls, embedded
How special the voices of our loved ones seem to us
Holding them tight
Letting them sooth us to sleep
Brushing my teeth until my gums bleed
Not for the purpose of cleaning,
but to prove that I'm alive
The blood flows due to the life I possess
Changing the trash that tells the story
of my days
The food I've consumed,
The receipts of the meaningless purchases
The materials filling my closet
They do not define who I am.
The stories the ones close to me hold tightly in their hearts
Those are what explain my existence
The beauty of my life is contained in the ones around me
Within me the secrets are locked up
They're the only thing keeping my story incomplete

While you are wasting your time
using each other
What could help you move on
Who could be there,
Is walking straight past your steamy window
The hand you could've held
keeps walking
Alone
and away from you.
Leaving you unsatisfied,
in your disheartened solidarity
next to the pointless lover at your side
You both lay there,
envisioning a better tomorrow
when that day is already long gone
The footprints of that bright future have faded
no longer imprinted in the dirt next to your house
your bedroom, with the jumbled up sheets
You've lost your chance
at being strong, moving on
You're stuck in the shadows of the meaningless
Elbows in the air,
The sweat attempts to wash away the feeling that it's all wrong
but the evaporation leaves behind a rough, bitter sense of guilt
The guilt of knowing
you're back where you were before.

There's a whirlwind of feelings surrounding me
Throwing my hair in my face
I'm running in every which direction
Toward and away from you
Should I follow my feelings or follow my head?
I think it's impossible for me to follow my head
My heart is uncontrollable
I think I like it that way,
but I'm sure you won't.
I'm everywhere at once,
but you can't find me
I'm a mystery to you
Read me like an open book,
but you'll notice my pages are out of order
The wind picks them up and carries them wherever it likes
It makes life more interesting
My story thus far is a comedy,
and tragedy because we all die in the end
It's as non-fiction as it comes
My life is my life, no false lines
to make you laugh
My life is highly amusing
My feelings are easily hated
(on the surface)
You know you love them deep down,
the mixed up wonders which define who I am
You raise your eyebrow,
I'm undefinable.
The more you know me,
the less ordinary you will feel.

I've wrapped myself up,
sustaining the heat, the passion
It's all held within.
I cannot give it to you,
it's as if it is stolen from me
without warning
I cannot help or control the process
Who will take it from me, who i will give myself to
Who will make me smile the way i need to
It sneaks up on me
It never seems to work out
the way I want it to
I'm someone else's leftovers
I sit there on your mind,
but your effort is only to push me further away
toward the back of your mind
You want me to collect the dust
of your other thoughts
I am susceptible
You have the power to harm me,
but that's a step in the right direction
I am finally feeling again,
even if I'm bound to get hurt
It's worth it.

[4th piece of my incomplete book]

The cold air brushes past me
As if it's leading me away from you,
or toward you,
I can't see straight anymore.
It's rushing me in every which direction.
I'm unstable, I'm dizzy
The chaos of living is catching up with me.
I close my eyes, I breathe deeply
My anxiety decides to stay
I dig my fingers into my arm,
I am completely lost.
Not only am I lost like I have been for so long,
but I am physically lost
I have no where to go.
I can't come home, because I was lost there too.
I miss the comfort of our bed,
even if I was sleeping with my eyes wide
Awake for every moment of the night
I wonder if you're out there somewhere,
lost too.
Maybe we're standing inches away from each other
Our eyes closed,
maybe our hairs are touching
I open my eyes,
I am alone.
The fog surrounds me,
It's suffocating.
I never felt trapped in your arms.
If I knew where to find myself I would bring it back to you.
I wonder if you would love it.
Or would you politely unwrap it,
with false excitement, thanking me for the gift you'd rather return,
but can't?
You'd pretend to love it when I'm around,
but shun it once I left the room.
It's not like you can lie anyway,
I have always been able to tell.
You're so readable when it comes to honesty,
dishonesty.
I wonder if I'll even love the ending product,
the final draft of myself.
What if I hate it?
What if you hate it too?