Confessional with a Pulse.
02/23/03,
4:32 AM.
So nervous before you today,
like a deer in headlights,
toungue-tied, brain-locked,
utterly terrified.
I'll just be watching you,
people-watching.
I'll hear it all, I'm the
confessional.
I'll see you from my place
in the corner,
in the distance...
As far back as I can remember,
friends and strangers alike have
trusted me immedeatley,
approached me and spilled to me
the strangest things, most intimate things,
and the stupid and
the silly, as if I was
a confessional
with a pulse;
as if I was the lone, open ear,
but so often I've
wondered --
as I sit up nights chewing on
my living nightmares, on the
broken perceptions I cannot mend,
warped realities I cannot straighten,
the aches that never ease,
those answers divorced from questions
and truths I cannot swallow;
as I drag on through the days
thinking to myself and feeling others,
prying into foreign minds
through the eyes of strangers,
trying to solve the riddle of our existence,
trying to understand the meaning of my visions,
trying to understand the Gray situation
that I'm stuck in
-- why no one seems to be listening to me,
why I feel there's no one I can trust,
why I feel so fucking out of place;
even a stranger among the closest of friends,
I've wondered why I have to forge a pebble
to gain any common ground at all,
and hen today you said to me
that I never speak of me
you began to ask me questions,
almost...
almost as if I was a mystery
almost as if you found me interesting
almost as if you wanted to understand
the soul within these black holes
rimmed with dark sand,
the time I thought would never come,
the moment I've been waiting for,
this could be it, this is it, could it be?
this is someone who actually seems to
give a shit about what
resides inside me, and I can strip
it all free and
dance before your attention fearlessly naked,
for once I can give and recieve;
for once, true communication.
Kick the pebble,
we've got true common ground called
sincere interest and
mutual desire to understand, and...
I become a deer in headlights,
toungue-tied, brain-locked and hopelessly afraid,
closely-guarded and suspicious,
nervous at your questions and
your curious face, wanting
to hide back in my
shell of silence,
flee to the comfort
and familiarity
of being unknown and
misunderstood...
I'll just be watching you,
people-watching.
I'll hear it all, I'm the
confessional.
I'll see you from my place
in the corner,
in the distance, where
I'm morbidly secure
and in control.
02/23/03,
4:32 AM.
So nervous before you today,
like a deer in headlights,
toungue-tied, brain-locked,
utterly terrified.
I'll just be watching you,
people-watching.
I'll hear it all, I'm the
confessional.
I'll see you from my place
in the corner,
in the distance...
As far back as I can remember,
friends and strangers alike have
trusted me immedeatley,
approached me and spilled to me
the strangest things, most intimate things,
and the stupid and
the silly, as if I was
a confessional
with a pulse;
as if I was the lone, open ear,
but so often I've
wondered --
as I sit up nights chewing on
my living nightmares, on the
broken perceptions I cannot mend,
warped realities I cannot straighten,
the aches that never ease,
those answers divorced from questions
and truths I cannot swallow;
as I drag on through the days
thinking to myself and feeling others,
prying into foreign minds
through the eyes of strangers,
trying to solve the riddle of our existence,
trying to understand the meaning of my visions,
trying to understand the Gray situation
that I'm stuck in
-- why no one seems to be listening to me,
why I feel there's no one I can trust,
why I feel so fucking out of place;
even a stranger among the closest of friends,
I've wondered why I have to forge a pebble
to gain any common ground at all,
and hen today you said to me
that I never speak of me
you began to ask me questions,
almost...
almost as if I was a mystery
almost as if you found me interesting
almost as if you wanted to understand
the soul within these black holes
rimmed with dark sand,
the time I thought would never come,
the moment I've been waiting for,
this could be it, this is it, could it be?
this is someone who actually seems to
give a shit about what
resides inside me, and I can strip
it all free and
dance before your attention fearlessly naked,
for once I can give and recieve;
for once, true communication.
Kick the pebble,
we've got true common ground called
sincere interest and
mutual desire to understand, and...
I become a deer in headlights,
toungue-tied, brain-locked and hopelessly afraid,
closely-guarded and suspicious,
nervous at your questions and
your curious face, wanting
to hide back in my
shell of silence,
flee to the comfort
and familiarity
of being unknown and
misunderstood...
I'll just be watching you,
people-watching.
I'll hear it all, I'm the
confessional.
I'll see you from my place
in the corner,
in the distance, where
I'm morbidly secure
and in control.
