Nothing Magical

No, there is nothing magical here tonight. Or there, for that matter. Somewhere. I've wandered from myself and the writing (which may be one and the same) once again. I can pretend that it is because nobody cares to be here with me, but it is an apathy deeper inside than that. Maybe it is an actual real visceral psychological physical need. maybe it is a madness only I experience (hopelessly hopeful romantic dreamer hangs on to whatever optimism is left inside and repeats just keep breathing, just keep swimming, just keep a way to the heart open...

Maybe someone understands.



What can I say?...

Once there was a way to find myself when I was lost and return to my high
These days I don't know the way to recall who I am, sometimes I don't even try
When I was a child my heart was broken and left shattered gaping open wide
Sometimes late at night I wonder why I am still here when maybe I have died

There aren't any answers
no magic wonder pills
just lonely silent dancers
some momentary thrills
an emptiness consuming
the wonder of the love
that once was all I lived for
now it's a worn out glove
and nothing seems to fit
I don't seem to give a shit
some moments of clever wit
I don't feel a part of it
what I lost has been forgotten
what I gained is emptiness
the hopelessly hopeful dreamer
has something more to confess
we have settled for distraction
superficial happiness
and we pretend it's enough
but it's really just a mess
because we are not satisfied
and sometimes we can't hide
the heart still gaping so wide
wishing you would come inside
but so afraid to let you in
whether wisdom of a sin
losing before we can win
is no way to begin

Once there was a way to find myself when I was lost and return to my high
These days I don't know the way to recall who I am, sometimes I don't even try
When I was a child my heart was broken and left shattered gaping open wide
Sometimes late at night I wonder why I am still here when maybe I have died

Not that I have lied....

Dirt, drama, and details are not always explicit or directly associated with the reality of the daily life even when it is all about the daily life. Sometimes I find clarity in what may appear to be obscurity. Sometimes I just find comfort and sometimes, comfort is enough.