forgetting

forgetting who we are
who I am
are we safe
am I happy

there once was a time
passions were my own
that could be elaborated on
for hours
yet today I forget
when was the last time
I felt that passion again

music perhaps
television, certainly
but when was the last time
I felt overconsumed
by something
someone

time to self-audit
ask myself questions
take notes
find myself
before forgetting even more

heartbruised

it's the little things
you say and do
I try to ignore because
it only ends one way

not broken or shattered
you didn't have that chance yet
though I would've given it to you
if you'd just asked

heartbruised
not broken and no tears
just this weight I carry
unwillingly

oblivious, you stand
to the things you do to me
blameless, you are
because its only my heart that feels
this way

you don't know
all I would do for you
but I sit here alone
heartbruised

Chameleon

what's the color of me
when i realize so much of my life
has been spent
conforming
following

what's the difference between
me and the next one
if we're all conforming to please
bending
molding
almost breaking
until we no longer exist purely

i always thought that me was different
but lately i've been wondering
what is me
my thoughts
my likes
my emotions
my passions

unlike oil and water
my likes and their likes
aren't separated
where do they end
and i begin?

crawling.walking.running.

crawling
because there's no room to stand tall
because that's what it takes to get from
point A to point B
on your knees
wanting to step up
limited by the roof over your head
that is apathy

walking
slowly using your strength
strong enough for self support
but not enough to grow
wanting to do everything you can
limited by the speed at which you move
time is pushing you forwards
and your heart pulling you back

running
freedom from chains of before
but limited by the extent of your
passions and ability
being able to finally make a choice
to act or not to act
but the very act of choosing
forces sacrifice and pain
to choose between one and the other
will slow the run
to a walk
then a crawl
with time to reflect


What a difference a day makes, I turned and watched you walk away
I might have been standing on the top of the world
'Cause I might have been wrong

Cleaning

He smiles and laughs
a joke passes between them
teasing over words and syntax
she smiles and laughs
but her heart feeling heavy
beneath the smile sits an emotion
too weak to be voiced
yet too strong to be ignored

she says
how do I say the words
how do I speak my thoughts
when I'm not even sure if its the right thing to do
because I'm cleaning
cleaning
cleaning my heart out
shaking off the dust that remains of
these feelings I'm not even sure are real

days pass and they don't change
the same smiles and laughs
passing on and on and on
sometimes the feelings leave her
but they always return
if not stronger
at least the same

she says
how do I tell you
all of what I really think
all of what I really feel
because when I'm cleaning
cleaning
cleaning my heart out
knowing I need to wash away
all these thoughts of you

Lyricists

Fall
the world is too big to never ask why
a sixteen-hour work week
almost block scheduling of classes
and yet
time is in abundance
suddenly being able to save time for studies
for doing next week's financial statements
remembering how to calculate the z-value
learning the difference between marketing and selling
and slightly tearing up during weekly film sessions
while still finding time to talk and play board games
to watch movies and TV shows
and to make homemade pizza from scratch
the strange paradox that
the busier I am, the more time I have
to enjoy the view from my room
of the yardage they're painting right now
to sing So here I stand fighting what I feel for you
Torn between what reason says and how I really feel
and think about the choice in anyone's words
wondering what this filter of mine is doing to my heart
Do you ever think about me? Do you ever call my name?
work is constant as ever
experiencing the concepts of BUAD 304:
task identity actually IS a motivator
from cleaning to copying to labels to DT forms
the occasional errand and carb Fridays
less nervous when the phone rings (though I'll avoid it if I can)
heart-to-hearts in the copy room
Fall would not be complete without
FOOTBALL
eight hours in the sun and the heat
the v-neck tan on my neck a testament to my second row seats
proximity to the excitement
heart pounding anxiety because we're down in the 4th quarter
cheering and jumping because Barkley, McKnight, and Johnson
come through in the end

Week 4
settled into a routine
still wanting to be more active in student groups on campus
yet for a moment
wondering if it'll be all worth it
of all the things I should do
and asking if they're things that I want to do