I'll Just Snivel...
No more
it's all just a droneful abandoned plea
of me
to me
for me
by me
to not be alone
anymore.
To have
one
but
none
I suppose?
Or does it trace
my mind
overloaded with dying caffeine charge
formulating for the following day's
monotonous lull
a random guy playing a mini guitar sparks
my wishing and longing
once
again
for a friend
a cheesey wanting for someone to curl up on a couch with
but too young am I
and a cliche is never as satisfying as it is in theory
afraid
I can't be what anyone wants
Inexperience
is a downfall
of unwilling innocence
but uncomfortablility is not all that appealing on the same note.
So why?
But I
am not even positive
of what
who
when
where
why
how
if
or
not
silence is grace
and says so much more than words ever will.
So me sits
alone with the silence
and fuzz
of pointlessness
and bitter
angst.
Putrid.
Rank.
And damp is my soiled mind.
soaking with hazy confuision and indecisiveness.
What if...