| i continue to try to make something out of nothing.
and i am confused why it is always disappearing.
i am like a dog that will not learn. you can tell me all you want.
i understand the words.
but my nature will never change.
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| i hold loosely,
hoping you'll grip
and choose to stay of your own free will
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| i keep expecting to find something.
i never do.
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| a lot of the things i have strung together are falling apart.
my threads are frayed ('fraid?).
my needlework seems to have not accounted for this human condition.
i box all good things together and throw the rest out with the trash.
but "the trash" was mistakenly just another room.
a space storing what i did not care for.
then they found & opened the door.
and... what?
it was just things.
things... hidden away.
and the thing about things?
is that they mean very little
when you don't care. anymore.
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| i can make sense of things that make no sense.
and i take it personally.
i am capable of understanding your coded language.
i know what you mean, what you meant.
but i cannot change (for you, so to speak)
and i'm sorry it offends you.
if there's one thing history's taught me, it's not to let it happen twice.
i will not have this shit.
i will not have it.
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