Why do you project in me that which you believe
me to be?
Why don’t you sense the doubts of
Why is my reality only real
when it departs from your lips?
Why are my emotions
Could it be that I’m nothing more than…
I just spoke down to my son
my stomach is rejecting the damn coffee mixed with Xanax
my pained ego is enslaving my mind
Why do you think that being me
is what you’d like to be?
this is a poem that thais zumblick once read us sprawled on her floor in tears and pizza crumbs and they come to mind tonight and i miss those days more than ever