Montage (aka, Runaway Thoughts)

Life and light is so much better viewed through a vague opaque haze.

Why is there no rain pouring down my windows? Seems there should be.

Life leaves you broken, brittle, and dry
Some go in flames, some pass with a sigh.

But I think that I would like to fly... and never come down from the deep blue sky.

Standing on a chair punching at my bedroom ceiling. LET ME OUT! I always wanted skylights.

Hey, you can rely on me, Honey, cept. Guess you can't. Wilco, you are a liar. Give me my money back.

Spent an hour looking at sailboats for two. They are out of my price range.

As always.

I just wanted a car and music and nowhere to go. So beautiful, these mirages.

Holding my plastic flowers in sweaty palms, I stand awkwardly in front of the grave of Christopher Columbus. Clear my throat. "Um, sorry. Couldn't afford the real stuff. But I really appreciate what you did. Really. Yeah." But I couldn't care less right now.

I need some help. Serious, I think.

"Get him on the gurney! He needs a heart transplant ASAP!"

Love is a trap. And if too many people love you (one or more), you are bound to hurt them, hurt yourself, and hurt them.

And all I wanted was the beauty of the moon, the laughter of the stars, and a love that blossomed like the sun. Guess I set my sights too high.

Something is horribly wrong when you resent people for loving you.

Swinging makes me sick. And I'll regret till the day I die not getting sick.

I try not to sigh too much. It hurts my throat.

If you see my eyes, you'll know to stay away.

AH! RUN! Diseased!

Help, help, hel

Who am I?
What do I want?
Why am I?
What do you want?

Okay. Spinning too fast. Stop that. When you fling the thoughts off that fast they shatter on my bedroom walls. And that's wasteful and messy. Slow down! Stop!

Fine. I quit.