Drooping Eyes & Dangling Wallet Chains
(freewrite)
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Drooping eyes,
and dangling wallet chains,
whatever you want to call it...rains,
we get so wet,
motionless swingsets...should hardly be called,
the mere possibility of something to be,
surely doesn't make it so proud,
I've got it all in my sights,
it's rather overwhelming,
like faces lit by campfire light wide-eyed from the ghost-story-telling,
my nightmares are not out of tune lullabys,
sung waveringly mixed words to all passerbys,
I'm so nervous,
to share my own words,
that sometimes I just share my phone number first,
then cower in the corner waiting for attention,
it seems that the only thing I can arouse anymore is suspicion,
Even that, is only sparingly,
why can't I get these intellectual-wannbe motherfuckers to stare at me?
they anger me so,
that I wish I belonged as one of them,
I wish I remembered when...I was,
maybe when I'm thirty,
but planning out my own persona makes me feel so dirty,
cleanliness is overrated, well,
unless it's your hands making me a sandwich,
it's such arrogant attitudes that overfeed some and leave the rest of us famished,
I'm not worried about going hungry,
or not having money,
I'm worried that sometimes I'm not going according to plan,
and I hate reading manuals,
so now my current situation you better understand,
once a man,
now just flesh and bone,
I remember how I got here,
I just hope I forget how to get home.
and dangling wallet chains,
whatever you want to call it...rains,
we get so wet,
motionless swingsets...should hardly be called,
the mere possibility of something to be,
surely doesn't make it so proud,
I've got it all in my sights,
it's rather overwhelming,
like faces lit by campfire light wide-eyed from the ghost-story-telling,
my nightmares are not out of tune lullabys,
sung waveringly mixed words to all passerbys,
I'm so nervous,
to share my own words,
that sometimes I just share my phone number first,
then cower in the corner waiting for attention,
it seems that the only thing I can arouse anymore is suspicion,
Even that, is only sparingly,
why can't I get these intellectual-wannbe motherfuckers to stare at me?
they anger me so,
that I wish I belonged as one of them,
I wish I remembered when...I was,
maybe when I'm thirty,
but planning out my own persona makes me feel so dirty,
cleanliness is overrated, well,
unless it's your hands making me a sandwich,
it's such arrogant attitudes that overfeed some and leave the rest of us famished,
I'm not worried about going hungry,
or not having money,
I'm worried that sometimes I'm not going according to plan,
and I hate reading manuals,
so now my current situation you better understand,
once a man,
now just flesh and bone,
I remember how I got here,
I just hope I forget how to get home.
