tape
the weather has been so amazing.
yet i stay inside.
i don't enjoy it like i once did.
it stopped breathing into me.
i stopped....
i don't fit in real well.
i've said it before,
i feel like a puzzle piece
thrown casually into the wrong box.
and i just can't make it work...
perhaps it's all a matter of circumstance
the wrong place
the wrong time
the wrong partner
the wrong idea
the wrong girl
the wrong life....
perhaps i have no clue what i really want.
i only think i do...
perhaps i'm wrong.
or.....
perhaps it's not my piece that's wrong.
perhaps it's all these tattered and mismatched pieces i have collected over the years.
found hidden in old sofa cushions, under chairs, between cracks in floorbords...
dusty and neglected
and left behind.
except by me.
i don't imagine how i ever concieved that i would be able to form a real, lovely scene, like the picture on the box, with pieces i've found scattered.
-who knows from whic box they even originiated...or when....
how foolish it seems....
however,
i like to think still that i can make it all work.
take all those mismatched pieces and shove them all together somehow.
so that they might make some other sort of picture.
my picture.
with enough tape, patience, and vision i've heard anything is possible...
my life, in a frame.
a tangled mess of mis-matched, tattered and worn pizzle pieces, sloppily taped together.
perhaps ugly.
perhaps beautiful.
but mine.
and mine alone.
-that is why i am a dreamer.
and why i am sad today.
yet i stay inside.
i don't enjoy it like i once did.
it stopped breathing into me.
i stopped....
i don't fit in real well.
i've said it before,
i feel like a puzzle piece
thrown casually into the wrong box.
and i just can't make it work...
perhaps it's all a matter of circumstance
the wrong place
the wrong time
the wrong partner
the wrong idea
the wrong girl
the wrong life....
perhaps i have no clue what i really want.
i only think i do...
perhaps i'm wrong.
or.....
perhaps it's not my piece that's wrong.
perhaps it's all these tattered and mismatched pieces i have collected over the years.
found hidden in old sofa cushions, under chairs, between cracks in floorbords...
dusty and neglected
and left behind.
except by me.
i don't imagine how i ever concieved that i would be able to form a real, lovely scene, like the picture on the box, with pieces i've found scattered.
-who knows from whic box they even originiated...or when....
how foolish it seems....
however,
i like to think still that i can make it all work.
take all those mismatched pieces and shove them all together somehow.
so that they might make some other sort of picture.
my picture.
with enough tape, patience, and vision i've heard anything is possible...
my life, in a frame.
a tangled mess of mis-matched, tattered and worn pizzle pieces, sloppily taped together.
perhaps ugly.
perhaps beautiful.
but mine.
and mine alone.
-that is why i am a dreamer.
and why i am sad today.