The Search for My Mind

My days are melting together

my nights are never-ending

-written after I met you

I want to be an artist of words.

I'm tired of being a sandwich artist,

sorry subway,

but I'm so bored with my life.

I wish I had the communication skills

to transfer what goes on in my head,

into terms you could understand.

I think in the language of heartbreak,

and I see in the color blue.

- written at subway

My mind is a thief of time,

My heart is a bandit of affection,

both unaware of consequences.

-found in an old notebook, undated.

my heart is still a virgin,

uncharted territory.

A vast and empty field,

waiting to be crept on.

Many stay away,

There are rumors,

of mines laying around,

Waiting to be touched,

Waiting to explode.

- titled : mine