you know..

I never liked you anyway.
The whole time there was another man on my mind
so put that in your mouth and suck on it.
No matter how many women you clip to your side you will always be alone.
No matter how many lies you feed them, they won't ever love you.
And if someday you actually manage to care
the wounds will have already sunk too deep.
And then you'll finally realize how deep these words spoken have cut you.
you have a hole that cannot be filled.
and I
pity you.
but not certainly not enough to care.

when

I don't have art;
I have nothing.

why can't I

mold a love from clay
burn him in wax
sculpt him from wire
carve him in stone
brush him from acrylic
or
sketch him from a page...
oh how I am alone.

i'm in too far

over my head.
no one will do this with me :(

I'm so terribly

Masochistic

Sometimes I wish

that I could be one of those people who can love someone else.  I mean, I can love. I do love..
But when presented with an opportunity to have and hold that person all to my self.. I can't accept it.
Even if it's someone I really.. really, really love.
I can't have him.
As much as I want to be in someone's loving arms, my heart can't afford to be caged like that.
I'm lucky, in a sense.. I am not one part looking for another half to make my whole.
for I am already a completed piece in my collective life.
Don't get me wrong.. if I haven't already, one day I'll find that man that I already dream of and love so much
but it's sad to know that there will be no room for him in my heart.. in my life.
Doomed to be a lonely wandering artist, I'm sure..
There isn't room inside of me for anyone else
because within me ever burns a fire that smokes out all other feeling I harbor.  And it's a desperate need to
create things that only I can see.
People will tell me that I'm wrong.  That one day, oh that day I'll find that special something, someone.
They have no idea that I've had that special something since the day I could fist a crayon, and drag it along a surface.
People like me are far and few between..
having that innate desire and gentle love for things unseen
I'm brimmed with worlds that none of you will ever see or feel
and in exchange, I have no room left for romance.

I know inside that I will only ever love from an objective point of view-- and if I get close to the real thing, my worlds hidden within me will cry out and shun the stranger.
I've never wanted to be normal, but this place out here seems so alien to me.. people are too complex for me to want to understand on a deep level
so I recede into my private eden.
It'd be nice if I knew how to let someone share my invisible paradise
whatever.
I digress.

But I'm still

Alone.