Everyone is tired And I'm pushed into the corner again My head's sticking out I can see all I'm missing So close and yet still... now I'm tired Physically drained Mentally drained Emotionally wasted Running a thousand miles an hour So fast, how could I ever catch them, much less comprehend or even acknowledge them Sitting here, my mind takes up other forms I watch movies all day Avoid the phone, avoiding actual human contact And I write The pen almost faster then the emotions I write of myself in my poetry And of a world which doesn't exist, in my scriptures Hoping that one day, I will get the chance To make them come alive So I can come alive and stop hiding underneath the ink Realizing that it's not the 20s, the 40s, or the 70s, It's not New Jersey, Virginia, or San Jose I reside in I'm here and now As much as I despise it and those around me Sure, I could leave Or I could end it all But I'm no coward Or at least my characters aren't Which one am I again?
7/3/01
