Mr. Fix It

She forced her eyes to see a connection where there was none. Traveling mechanics only fix the pipes, they're not staying. They've got other appointments. And she knew that from the start. Poor silly girl, she tried to cage a cloud of smoke, and hadn't planned for failure. So now here we are, in her fall, at the end of all things, and she's not okay, not yet.
But she's reached a critical point.
Common sense and her naturally optimistic nature are once again, once again winning out over the newly broken hinges on her door. And this time she doesn't think she's going to call a mechanic. This time, she's ready to pull out the toolbox and get to work on her own.
Eventually she'll be able to fix that door and let people in.

Warm Fuzzies

Comfort's found in the strangest of places.
He called me and i smiled, my most forgotten of faces.
She huggled me, and i laughed, really laughed
Felt it here, where that freezer was
And i'm struck with the knowledge that i'll be okay, because
In that process of precipitation
You can't forget the condensation
Behind those clouds, there is the sun
Because without it there wouldnt be clouds in the first place
It may sound like science, but i'm talking hearts, too
Cause where there were two pieces there's now one, anew.

Should i cry some more?
Or will i be okay? Emily Dickinson says "first the chill, then the stupor, then the letting go"... why am i waiting so expectantly for the stupor? I've never had such a desire to stop feeling... to stop thinking, to stop moving... to have enough time to think and not think at all... to make a decision... to stick with it... to not hurt, just not hurt...

Passing Thought

I have lived the life of maniacal whims
Foolish things, passing fancies,
White lies and fake rings

I have lived the life of maniacal whims
Seize the day, feel the breeze
No safety nets, dont freeze

I have lived the life of maniacal whims.
I am you.
I am him.

I have lived the life of maniacal whims
Fed off it, subsistence
We are us, we are thin