When You Smile
<< 7:06 p.m. - Tuesday, Jun. 17, 2003 >>

All my words are so haphazard on this page. Joanna Rose at Lewis and Clark College insists that our writing has hidden metaphors, a deeper root of emotion. Right now, I fail to see how my writing reflects that. Why does everything have to be so damned mysterious? I just want to write sometimes. My words just are. I'm purging all the words I have onto paper and realizing how desperately impatient they sound.

But I digress. Oh well.

Don't know why I am so dead
I left all my friends
and became the wallflower I know so well
Lay spread across soft planks
The sky stares morosely back
This time I don't have it in me

These waves of insignificance
leave me so defenseless
Want to get the words right for once
but they leave empty holes in me
So I lay down and
Watch the mobile stars move around
In darkness

I'm waiting. Something will happen soon, know it. I want to be sincere and come out sounding like an ass. Don't want to cry, I'm not really sad. But it might do me good. I need to sort out this kaleidoscope of emotion.