HOME | DD

Description
I am not sane
I am insane
Meaning in my own sanity
My own life causing my own strife
Over vanity which derives from sin
Although it's not one of the seven
It's my number one
And I'll know that I've won
When you, the shrink, stops your scribbling
Just a pen with ink dribbling words on a paper
Judging me,
My insanity, because he doesn't know
What I mean when I say
I have to go but I would like to stay
And finish the life I haven't chosen to live
I'll give back to society for another few years
I'll bring joy to my peers, tears
Tears of joy to eyes that cry grief
I won't be a thief of good days
Swiping rays of sun that peer through clouds

I'm not crazy
But I'm too lazy to explain how that's possible
Lazy, lazy, lazy
Sloth is a sin you know
One of the seven
It's my number one because
The one doesn't count
It's just one of my misconceptions
That lead to wrong directions
And by that I mean there's an arrow
It's pointing left, right, down, and up
Speaking of up, all you do it look up to the tree
Where the Cheshire cat will be staring at me
Boring holes in my eyes, unpleasant, but that's no surprise
And he knows, he knows all too well
So before I can yell he Houdini's his way into a smile,
This huge white smile that you could see a mile away
With blunt jagged teeth that belong in a sheath
Let's not talk about it…

You know what?
You know what we could talk about?
That feeling you get when you, you know you forget
Something important and the thought just lays dormant
But no matter how hard, and trust me I've tried,
You bang your head on the wall
That thought is just tied, chained to a bed in your head
That you want to crawl under and yell loud as thunder
"Just wake the fuck up"

It's frustrating isn't it?
To try and make your pen cry lies
As I mumble and ramble
And my words tumble and fumble around the room
As though they're dancing they swoon
And you can see the a and the b from those two words that I mentioned
Flying like birds hand in hand or wing in wing
Wait
Numbers or letters, what ever they were don't even have wings…

Oh! You know that chirp a bird will make when it sings?
Like chimes the sound rings through the forest and bounces off trees
Gets tangled in leaves and flies into pinecones
That drop down like stones that don't make a sound

You must wish I were a pine cone since I said they don't make a sound,
I'm sure that would make you feel sounder,
Safe
But the words in the leaves are like the sound the trees make
If they fall and no one had heard
Gone
Invisible, non-existent
Ha!
That's not a sin because if pride is a spin on existing too much
Then a person couldn't exist too little
Which is why I want to follow every hollow word that came out of my mouth
And jumped out the window
…

I hate that; I hate the sound of the tipping or tapping or tisking of your pen
Your pen against the paper that shouldn't judge me but it doesn't
You give it the words to judge me
And nonono don't blame the pen
It was you, again and again scribbling and slathering my blathering all over the pad

Don't look so surprised
I know I'm blathering of suicide and sins
Loses and wins
Winds that carry words and leaves
The emptiness in that imaginary cup..
Oh look, time's up