October 3rd

october 3rd, 2008

kyle and the rain

that's inspiration for you.

I really don't like putting titles on things, but for the sake of whatever, I'll just say, Headlights.

Headlights don't do the world justice.

Like a blindsided horse sees it,

I see whats in front of me,

I follow that road,

I know where I'm going.

The headlights fake it.

They show you what they think you need to see.

But I need more.

But I need to see the cactus,

growing on the sidewalk.

But the headlights don't think so,

so i dont see the cactus.

While they sensor my vision,

I imagine what I'm missing.

A lost love, maybe.

Just out of sight,

because the headlights know,

I'm better without him.

A deer in headlights.

That's when you caught me,

and you always catch me when I'm that way.

But isn't that how it always is?

Maybe in your head,

you replay it, 

over and over.

You know what you have to say.

And when their eyes meet yours,

you know the point youre going to make.

When you get to the front door,

you know you're going to open it.

But when you get to the door,

you suddenly forget.

When they say hello,

you forget the point.

And talk about palm trees instead.

And when faced with the doorknob,

you pretend you dropped your pen,

and bend over to pick it up.

Stalling, stalling, stalling.

A glass half full, 

supposed to be doing good,

but its sitting on your nightstand,

waiting for you.

Like I've waited these past years.

But I never got drunk right.

He spilled me on the carpet,

and on the crimson sheets.

It didn't create a stain, so he doesn't see the harm.

But I feel it.

Because im left to soak. 

in crimson sheets,

where I'll dry up,

until you decide to refill the cup.

And how do you end something like this?

No real reason.

Except that the rain brings confessions.

People standing in the dark,

distored and scary.

Misplaced.

And when my headlights fall upon them,

they looked like I did.

When you caught me,

damn it, you always catch me that way.