the wantee speaking

there is a grief in my sleep
a hush of my pending resolutions
i live because i should
now i want a biting push.

i thank the days that i am able to follow my schedule. that i am able to read what i should be reading. that i call the macintosh users. that i impart something to the applicants. that i am able to take a bath and feel the water linger in my pores.

i cry because i can't thank enough the people who understand. i weep when they show a bit of empathy. i hide when i lose the people i used to have by my side. and i sob alone because it makes me really sad.

it is really sad to be sad and to even realize that you are sad.

the need to feel inhuman and robotic
appeals to a heart clustered by itself
a heart clenched by a pool of no-choice
and individuals who refuse to stretch their feet
even just a foot

(i couldn't blame them)

wanted: a buffer. a conversationalist of the senseless and the senseful. the humanizer if not the grounder. a god needs a mudblood to reach the heights of humanity. or just the state of becoming a human. i miss that. i find it hard to tell my stories to someone who knows me all too well and to someone who knows nothing and most especially to someone who only knows about himself. because ive learned to be a listener. maybe not the perfect one but just someone who could listen a whole lot more than talk about what i am and what i have. maybe what i do and what others do.

if i would be given the chance to hook up the wanted i hope i would be given the chance. because i cry. because i am busy.

"...ooohhhh no baby please don't go. ooohhh no i just want you to stay. you'll take away the biggest part of me."

drifting