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Unfinished.



Not Complete.



Me?







Strum on the guitar.

Unknown rhythms,

Vibrate in the air.



Sounds appear,

Out of the metal grates,

As music plays on the computer.



Mystery fills the air,

As I lie about my truths.

Cryptic messages speaking to you.



Listen,

Maybe I should listen more.

At least then I would be heard.



For when you listen and never talk,

No one expects you to speak,

Until you finally do,

And they all listen.



The fucked up teen.

The faggot in the halls.



Fuck you,

What do I care?



Do I even?

Do you realize?



Afraid to talk,

Afraid to act.

Always showing off.

Always yelling.



For once in my life I came clean.

Yet still treated the same.

Afraid to speak my mind.

While you spill yours to me.



Black cars,

Drive by the house.

Guns pointed at my windows.



Hazel eyes peer out to the night.

Daggers in the dark,

Waiting for you to come out of the fog.



Yet I sit all night,

But no one ever comes.

Why do I have to hide?



The bad seed.

The poor man.

The stupid teen.

The smart man.

That damn fag.



For what should I care?

Do I even care?

Do you even realize?



Freak?

Genius?

Ok?



Too much?

Or not enough?



For once it’s me in the chair,

All the time I’ve spent listening,

Yet no one hears,

Yet you act like you do.



What do I care?

Do I even?

Do you?



For once it’s me,

That gay teen.

Roams the world.

Without telling,

All bout a few souls.

Who don't understand?

Though they act like they do.



Let’s see.

Do I want to be?

Just me?

I don't remember who that is anymore.



I forgot myself,

Lost in the piles of leaves,

As they float to the ground.



Fall,

The best time of year.

The cool air.

Crisp breeze.

And the snow soon to fall.

The colors.

The life.



Bittersweet.

The beauty of the ending of life.

As trees die to the winter.



Unlike me they wake up next year.



Driving down the road.

Windows down,

Freezing air.

Warm heat.



Mixed signals.

Lost messages.

Encrypted life.



Too much for me to figure out.

And that’s only the stuff about me.



What do I expect?

That they would all understand.

To most I'm just another fag.

Destined to hell.

Burning for sins which I don't believe in.

Why force that on me?



Did he know?

Could he have figured it out?

And now wants nothing to do with me for it?

I doubt it...

Yet there’s always a chance...

Why can't I figure it out?



Why am I like this?

Did I choose it?

Can I just change my mind?

Be like everyone else.

Because of my simple mistake.



Happiness?

Am I sometimes?

Or is it an act.

Good enough to fool myself.



Contradictions,

Life’s all about...



Hot and cold.

Good and bad.

You and me.

Me and her.



Never can happen together,

But are forced all the time.



Perhaps.

But not.

Maybe?



I don't really know.

I never really do.



I just want to be something.

Instead of the nothing I feel.



The fool on the hill.

The strange boy in the distance.

The darkest hour.

The pinball wizard.

The seeker.



Songs that make me think

But not feel.



I can't feel anymore

My hands and heart are too numb from lying.



The message is sent.

The bacon launched.

The waves carry it away.

As it passes the stars.



Lost forever,

But someday found.

When will that day come?



----



To run.

Far and wide.

Away from here.

The life I lived.

The life I faked.

The love I never felt.

But the pain that broke the heart.



Run away.

From you.

Them.

Go there.

But not here.

Anywhere?



Too bad.

Too much.

Too far.

Too late.



----



To love requires feeling.

To feel requires truth.

And the truth only brings pain.

But again the truth brings the happiness,

Missing for so long...

Well at least I would hope.

Though it hasn't helped all that much...



For once,

One last time.

Before this town is gone for good,

I can try to be me.

Just me.

Nothing.

Just me.



And for the first time in a long time.

After an act of five years.

The curtain can come down.

And those that ask,

Can find out what they never knew.



After five years of being them.

I can be me.

After five years of pain.

Can I begin to bandage the wounds?



----



So it’s me again,

At least I hope.

Me here,

To say Hi to you.



Maybe.

But still unsure.



Walking down the road of life once more.

But carefully placing my foot.

One step after another.

As I climb up the hill.



Pass by the ledge.

The one I stood at for so long.

Till the day,

I threw the knife away.



And slowly,

But with a head held up,

Rather then sulking down.

I walk on.

Up.

Forward.



Up the hill,

On the road.

The road of life.

My life.

My work in progress.