Resounding thunder
is deafening in its own silence.
I can see the bright yellow
and white
against the dark blue velvet
that seems to conform
to the atmosphere inside my mind.

You speak to me
in confidence
and try to gain an understanding.
The lightning shatters
your sentence
and I am terminally
sidetracked.

I can apologize
in 15 different shades of
regret and penitence.
Although I could walk outside
and not see my hand in front
of my own face
the wrong here is painfully clear.

Speaking out of anger,
is a habit engraved into
an insecure type of reality.
As the moment passes you by
be in contact to realize
a word could be your death.

A sentence could be my funeral,
while the simple
punctuation could be the tears
that do me in for the 6
hour visit
to the shrink on the corner of
here and no where.

I can see the rain on the window
and each drop
that slides down my glass
is an indication
that I am only who I can be
and without a slide
down my exterior, I\'d be tormented.

To come and go as I please,
through the thunder storm
of my intricate society.
I promise to live, love and obey
the principles
of my own unjustified
morale.

Taking the cliche
and remembering a forgotten day
is all I need
to feel pain and remorse
and to lie to myself and
promise
that I will stop from here.

These times have changed
from last night until this morning.
Its all a part
of knowing who you are.
And if you dont know who you are
then how can you tell me
who I am?