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Weak And Starving

I know you’re starving

Your supply of love has withered

And you’re craving for affection

But pretending to be indifferent.

I know you’re scared

Who could blame you if they knew

After all that you’ve been through

Asking for love would seem precarious.

I know you’re hiding

Wearing a mask to protect yourself

Concealing your needs from the vultures

And projecting your strongest face.

I know you’re tired

Exhausted from playing these games

Hardening and freezing your heart

As it begs to open up and bleed.

You’ve learned how easily a tender heart can wound,

How anyone that loves you knows just where you’re weak.

People forcing people to shelter their desires,

Preying on each other for that taste of love we seek.

I know how well you’re guarded, I recognize the signs.

I know the risks involved with trying to score some love.

I know we’re on alert for any weakness in another,

Waiting for our chance to steal away some of that drug.

I understand, I see you, and I know we’re all afraid.

I really need a taste myself before I fade away.

If we could call a truce, set our fears and worries free,

I’ll lick all of your wounds if you’ll do the same for me.

 

Baby Brain

Reflections, and imaginary conversations

Close fitting clothes and coffee in a warm place

Daydreams unending, continuing over days

Alone in my head, talking to you.

Confessing my feelings, my thoughts and desires

Living out my fantasies and my fears

Opening up to you and to myself

Without even needing you to be here.

So vivid sometimes I can’t sleep,

So potent sometimes I can’t think,

When it’s you and me and no one else

And it’s really only just me.

It’s a need and an addiction

A substitute for intimacy

A safe-space for my emotions

Where only I could really hurt me.

My sensitivities are brought to surface

My fragile ego realizes it’s pains

My weaknesses and repressions, illuminate

And I see through my baby-brain.

It’s me and you at you-know-where

We’re playing freely without care

We’re pretending, so we can feel

Like Disney-land is really real.

 

Daydream Addiction

My brain stained with nicotine, restraining my dopamine, sustaining my hunger for more stimulation.

My pastimes are clarified, and leaving me pacified,  weak with desire to embrace simulation.

My daydream is perpetual, absurdly conceptual, and substantially  real from my perception.

An Ego in in fantasy, cradled in infancy, constantly feeding my selfish pretension.

Useless but exciting, dangerous and inviting, a handy device as life substitution.

While leaving me pitiful, actions are critical, time doesn’t stop to embrace my illusions.