Occasionally a real person will walk past me just close enough to feel the breeze off their stride.
It's not like I'm shaking in the corner, or trying to hide.
Its hard to make eye contact when you're not really there.
It's hard to differentiate life from nightmares...
I am a weak, dim force hovering in a sweatshirt.
I have a headache and an attitude. I didn't mean to hurt her; or even flirt.
She acknowledged my existence, which was her mistake. I hear she is recovering in the hospital now, forgetting me and eating cake...
I scream and I yell next the abandoned barn at night.
I'm opposed to myself, but don't want to fight.
I'm a selfish hoarder that has amassed an impressive collection of nothing.
I'm in camouflage with a neon sign above my head that reads: ''please notice me! ''
Notice me before I'm dead!
Did you even read what I just said?
I just want to be noticed before I'm dead.
"But that's just D, writing his dark bullshit...
He's probably typing with one hand, a beer in the other, and a cigarette lit..."
I've been trying to rip off this cloak for as long as I've been...
But now I notice it's always been a straightjacket that I'm in...
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