even when you have no idea what it is you're writing about,
it'll come to you at the end,
well, but now I don't even know what it is I'm writing about
hmm, weird
I might sometimes run out of words but the ideas are usually always here,
I'll figure something out
you keep coming up in my dreams, you with no face, you: faceless, I mean I know your face and I know it's you but, maybe that means something, right?
and what about her? I think she's trying to tell me something,
the cat is weird though, I hate cats
Shakespeare made me cry today, but in a good way, one of those times when words just get to you
I want to run freely and make it to your arms at last
I want to be jaded and for you to make me calm
look up and see your eyes, see them staring right back at me
hungry for more sights,
I want you to, I want you to
"look it"
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