Guess I'll wait for my creation.
11:30 and still going.
Time: no longer an object.
Pressure stalled, the more I sleep.
Gravity not fully realized.
Haven. Safety.
When I leave this bed,
I'll have to grow up.
Face the money, face the problem.
Pretend I'm cared about.
The ink is running out.
Who doesn't want me to write?
Paranoia already settling in?
At least it isn't real.
Curtains closed, but privacy breached.
They know too much about me.
I gave too much away.
Now, I'm alone.
Mystery and secrecy
Draw attention, stability.
No one wants an empty book.
They'll read it for themselves.
Is there something happy to say?
Why do I always go negative?
Yesterday was a good day
Until I started thinking.
If I turned off my brain
For the summer,
Would everyone like me better?
If I write my thoughts before I think,
Maybe I'll have a better day.
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