Pay no attention to the psychopath behind the curtain...

lying here, can't sleep for all the thoughts running through my head
pouring from my eyes
echoing from parted lips
same old story, same old song.
same shit, different day.

lying here, wetting my bed the old fashioned way
one tiny tear at a time
drop by drop, pillow then mattress
saturated with sadness
this is getting really old

ok, attempt at poetry fail.
i got out of the habit of writing 2 or so years ago
haven't quite caught the swing of things again
the pen doesn't feel quite comfortable in this hand.
maybe i should go back to being ambidextrous

of course if i tell you that i write both ways
you get all these crazy thoughts in your head
pens and pencils, double fisting on college-ruled paper
scribbled, half erased, and ink stained
slightly crumpled indian paper origami

and now i'm not even making sense to myself.
which i guess is par for the course
when it comes back to me.
the more i stop to think it over
the more i'm ever quiet, ever silent

the words sometimes don't fit together
as they leave my lips, jumbled
mumbled, or not said at all
because who could understand me
when i barely understand myself

of course i couldn't blame you
i'm so far below what you'd expect
6 feet under walking in full sunshine
and no one guesses or knows
the full extent of what i feel

because i really can't say it
can't tell you when you're looking at me
why i squirm and look away.
why i want to kiss you with eyes closed
why i'm scared to think you might see me

the most transparent i've ever been
and you still won't look through me like everyone else
and you still ask why i won't look at myself in a mirror
or why i get that haunted look when you touch me
or why i get that quiet pain when i touch you

and it hurts to think about it
it hurts to know you know me
it hurts to know i don't know you
and i'm so tired of hurting
self inflicted, self induced ridiculousness

i bore myself sometimes
most times, straight to tears
uninteresting, unimaginative, and yes
yes, i know ... why try to deny it?
... deep down unloveable.

i don't see what you seem to see
i try and try to describe it
make you realize that i'm damaged
not good, bad, evil, wrong
horrible and whoreable

and not at all what you deserve
nowhere even close to what is good for you
so wrong that i'm sitting here when i should be happy
crying and worried that maybe i dreamt it
and it never really happened

crying and worried that maybe you'll read this
or i'll email you one too many times
or call you once too often
and you'll realize how fucked up i truly am
and you'll finally see me how i see myself

and you'll run away screaming
coconut shells out of time with your feet
and i'll never hear from you again
which is what i deserve and what i seem to get
when i let myself be visible.

life was so much easier when i was ugly
when people looked away out of pity
or just didn't even try to see me at all
when i could blend into the background
and be content knowing i'd never be with you

so here i am fucked and fucked up
crying cause i'm so damn sure that you were just being nice
when you said those pretty words and those plans you had
here i am not sleeping cause i'm fucking insane
and i'm scared you finally figured that out.

and i'm fairly certain i should trust my instinct
that feeling deep inside about you and i
that i had ten years ago when i first knew i liked you
an entire decade spent certain of no reciprocation
... i guess old habits die hard.

and i'm tired of crying
feeling agan like everything is repeating itself
another friendship ruined by a stupid decision
another misconstrued intention, needing intervention
just another day in the life of me

just ashley

i guess my favorite color really is blue.
but i don't know the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow
although a laden spit seems slightly more messy in my mind
and there i go falling back to deep dug trenches
when all else fails try baser senses

sex sells.

and i guess that would be great if i was a good saleswoman. or had a better sales technique.

... and i guess its kinda sad that the one thing i'm good for is the one thing i'm not good at.