I’m cold and tired. I’m sick of caring, sick of you. I’m sick of looking like a fool and coming home to find the same old stuff that never seems to go away even after daily discussions. This happens all the time but I always put myself in the same situation chasing something that no longer exists. We cannot be one and I will not be third. Life is growing old as distance becomes a sidewalk for the party left behind. Everything in the past turns to nothing today as I refuse to play the part. I can see paradise in an empty room but there always has to be something more with you. Why can’t you grasp satisfaction? My words are wasted without an eye and an ear to see and hear what this world is all about. I don’t want to be a topic in some meaningless conversation. My voice is forced to be heard but tomorrow I will find the strength to disappear and give a cold shoulder instead of a phony smile. This was a time for happiness and carelessness but anticipation betrayed as the living truth haunts me every day. My verse is not for you, just inspired by.
January 20, 1998