boxed in a sunset

[__incetardis]

this is my brain, that is your brain, we have thoughts.
no matter what i think, it's what you think.
a mocking bird posted on my shoulder.

i should turn the tables. it has to be me.
so i'll raise my hand and express my thoughts.
and deal with the glare of nasty gocks.

when the day ends a reflection comes into view.
its of the things i do. its of the things that move you.
and i sit and anticipate, when will be our time?