Old Poetry... (3)

SHE SAYS, ME written on 5/19/2009

No, she says,
I don't think you'd like it
It's not very good,
It's just me, she says.
Just me, she says, me and my words;
My words and my thoughts and my everything.
(Everything).

I seem to be prolific these days,
Prolific, creative, pontific and flowing
with SO many words
And pictures and movements
and music I'm forcing through
one tiny pen...
But the words that escape can't come,
Never come clean.

I'm looking at you
And I'm looking at her
And I'm fighting the urge just to tear it all down
Down, down, just
Burn it all down!

My mind is brimming with
Ashes and Anger
with Bile and Fear and full of regret
Filling with jealousy,
(oh, sweetest jealousy)
She does not liked to be shared,
you see?
But then again, it's only me...

Doubt and fear are tricky companions
Subtle, controlling, and more than I've got...
But I can't hear the words you are saying
Over my blood, or from where I stand

The world turns to picture;
The world, it goes crazy
(No, I just go crazy)
Just inside the door...

It's dark in here (oh, so dark in here)...
When my mind is freely allowed to wander
But I am here, somewhere
Somewhere I'm still knowing
That you are still you
And that I am still I
And that you are still thinking of me...