☆◇the hours painted ◇☆ -fikss

With so many hours

Unfilled

Unfelt

I dont know

If there is a place to pour the days

Is all there is

Sleeping and working and sitting with the hurt and weighted

Until the days and years mesh and mould into the same shadeless colour

Well well

I dont know

These days used to fill themselves 

Amongst thick leaves and river streams

And faces and places and stiched seems

But the threads are beginning to rip and stretch

Pulled out from their destined place

But anyway

A life can change

And I still somewhat know who I am

*I wont let the metal frame

Staple my spine and limbs 

Like a motionless portrait*

/And anyway I will not be stapled

Or cut into place

I am the road and i walk the way

Well, I dont know where to start

How to burn like i wish 

So many people do better than i could ever

Speak, think, make like i could never

*But as you know, one should never pour out of somebody elses hand*

*But I am learning and trying and wishing and wanting to want to be me*

And anyway i want to learn to be 

the one who speaks and thinks and makes

learn to feel the tears 

and the sun like a sword through my chest

Anyway, I just need a place

To melt into the grass

Where I can smudge this creature/heart

And bleed this heart/it out

Anyway, I am just doing the best I can

And I think these words could help

A fountain to wash my face