Wouldn't you agree

There's something very nerve-racking about you,
I don't quite know what it is.
I don't quite know that I want to know what it is,
but I know quite well that I want to know what it is that I don't know.
And that makes everything difficult.

Wouldn't you agree, good Sir?

This brain of mine

My brain, my brain
it's quite the thing
quite the awkward, funny thing.
Some days it's fine
sometimes it's (un) define (ed)
some nights it's swimming in wine.
Like rain, like thoughts
they go away
and come again another day,
if rain, if thoughts
could only stay
and never come another day.
I try, I'll try to refrain from rambling
but just so you know
just so it's known.....ahem....errrrr.....
my brain is a constant ramble
rumble
tumble
mumble.

After all,
I have spattered ink.

So who's to say I'm not going to spatter it on you?

someday

run
run
run
run,
cus you're not catching me that easily.

The thought that pillaged my other thoughts

What if you looked into somebody's eyes (this someday could be anybody) and knew they were the right person for you? But everybody told you that they weren't, that you were wrong. What defines right in that moment? What if you could get lost and never return? Would you do it, or instead sit still wondering why you hadn't? I don't want to be the still person painted in some picture that looks like every other painted picture. And I know my heart doesn't want to be stuck in such a painting. Secretly I want to be laughed at for doing something absolutely rediculous. I want to be remembered, but not because of some great deed; I want to be remembered by something that hates to be remembered, something that people can only shake their rubbishly snobbish heads at. That is all, rock-in-ridge!

She is her

She sits
and sings
and strums.
She's lonely
she's broken
she's scared.
This is what I see
this is what I love.
I wouldn't want to see
no I wouldn't want to see
anything more beautiful.

(God gave me this for you Laur, and this is how much he loves you. You are so beautiful and passionate, and he wants every bit of your passion and adores every second of it. He's so jealous for you, and he wants, he wants you).

Hmhm

Why don't you throw me against the wall?
It would be better
then this:

down

the night is falling down
into my bed and onto the walls.

: to Lovely

lovely, lovely summer night
with a lovely, lovely breeze-
only
it wasn't so lovely
because Lovely wasn't there.

oh how i wish she were : )