Make it/Fake it.

I AM not myself.
I am NOT myself.
But them who am I?
Scribbler of dreams?
Dance with the trees?
Maybe I'm just one big lie.
The clock turns red
I watch that instead.
And let my thoughts drift to the sky
Stare at your face with nothing to say
This time I'm sure I'm a lie.
Hair that I hate.
Paint I can't shake.
I'm tired of living this lie.
I Am not myself.
I am NOT myself.
Alone in my room...

Watch me cry.

I Ramble.

I've been doing this ridiculous thing
Where I try to rhyme everything I write
And I'll probably inadvertantly do it again
As I write with this purple pen.

And there it goes
The dubious trust
The ink doesn't splatter
The pages don't combust

I have a fixation
With framing words about words
Trying desperately to be a poet
Someone honest... to be heard.

But mostly I sit and slowly type away.
Wishing I could phrase
All the clever things I want to say.

And at the end of another ryhme
My hands starts to cramp
Something benign.