The constant struggle between am I wasting my time or waiting for what could be 

Because theres no us without you investing your time into me

But thats just It,is youre “too busy” to play the game to put It all to the test

So i “stay chillin” invested in you but trying to give my heart a rest

Impossible,cause thats a straight joke         I stay looking for an excuse for your actions to justify to my friends             Cause my heart is too invested,something I’m guessing will never happen on your part

But we staying playing games with my heart

Straight jokes right? Its all fun and games until someone gets hurt

But Game over, I know my worth. 



Just another “That girl”

I dont want to be “that girl”

Your 2am call

I dont want to be your “you up?” Text

Sitting here thinking what comes next

Yet here we are stuck in a tangle

The phase of “inconsistency and contingency”

“Are we open to the possibilities”

The girl who can lay in your bed

But has yet to even in meet your parents

Yet you wonder whats going on in “my crazy head”

The question of “am I not good enough”

Or am I just another fuck

And maybe thats the reason for all of this

Its that you dont want any of this.

But I dont want to be “that girl” I want to be “your girl”

The phase of “we are to old for this,

Im ready for commitment”

The phase of “I think I love you”

The phase right before “I do”

But I dont know what you want

So I sit here thinking in my crazy head am I turning nothing into something

Or am I just “that girl”.

Nothing into Something

Thats my main problem
I try to turn nothin into something
I need to learn that time does not mean love
And love does not mean commitment
We are at the kind of phase where its a bit of nothing
But a whole lot of everything
The time in your life when you are making stable ground
But I guess its not the time in your life where true love is found
Because 20 is filled with sex and 21 is filled with drinks
But no matter the number of drinks can make me forget what you think
Of me
Your “its complicated” kinda girl
The girl you don’t know, if you should put your heart out
Or give it a rest
But I find no fun in wasting my time
I don’t want “lets see what I can get in the meantime”
I want something more even if its a little nothing
For someone to give me their time, their love, and some form of commitment
But at this age the idea of all that, seems so distant
So I guess i’ll stop trying to turn nothing into something
For this is just a phase waiting to run its course
I get it now, in your 20’s a relationship is not something you can force.

Feeling low, kinda high

Theres a sentimental semi-permannt high in being your lover

The kind of love that just pinches your ventricles and squeezes them to clot,marijuana

The kind of high that makes your heart race like its a little kid rushing to their bus stop,cocaine

I dont want to stop the dizzy blood rush I get when I kiss you a little too long,Methamphetamine

But drugs are only short term and the high can only last so long

So dont pass me the next pill or call me your only lover

For being your lover was just a phase,onto another

The fire ignites

Is the notion of a soul mate true, I sit and ponder; waiting.
I beg to be saved from your tornado of “are we doing this right” or “can I actually commit”; a joke
But here’s the thing about being a boy with a bookshelves of hearts,
Your sanctuary can be burned down and there’s no beauty in a fire fuming, suffocating and scorching, a heart being held for ransom; theft
I pluck vessels from my soul as I sit and watch it scream; surgery

Tell them how your name
Tastes of bitter medicine.
Curing but sickening
I fought to swallow it.

Tell them how my weeping eyes begged
for a dry night’s rest
As I counted the stars I once saw in your eyes.

Tell them how the bookshelves broke and burned as I held the matches; ending in a victory.

The beautiful the hurt and the ugly

And here are the people with the lost souls and damaged bones that get their daily medicine from the man on the corner or in the cup of joe that moves their soul

The smell of day old cheese and café con leche burns the hair follicles in my nose

as im surrounded by the freaks, the normals, and the geeks

With Irish folk music as their wake up call or the voices crying out from town hall

The smell of onions in the air or the sound of some girl yelling at her boyfriend that “its just not fair”

These are the people of Clematis

The beautiful the hurt and the ugly

There’s the girl with the crying friend and

theirs the man who couldn’t meet his ends

This place he calls home, a bench as a bed

The only place he can rest his head

For a day or two, and a few nights more

Their he lies with a heart so sore

But this is Clematis where we all unite

May we all keep fighting our fight