on the way home i passed an empty pool. i suddenly pictured all the melancholy you remind me of. the lack of substance. what i was bound to jump into. a slide show of all the awful you bring to mind. i snap myself out of it, i almost feel bad. it really is unbelievable. as i walk towards my house i start to do so with rhythm. i picture all the saucy faces you make come to my mind. i can't comprehend that you never lost your balance, never once punctured the perfect picture. that's when you remind me of snow on top of a school bus, and why winter makes you feel only the realest emotions, the ones that carry on in a person. and you're so proud, you never lead on even an inch. you make me want to take my thoughts and shove them in a blender. tear them all apart so they can't be placed back together. i wonder what i bring to mind, how i make you feel. like what you say when people ask you how i am. the images that come to mind, if you wish you knew the answer. and how little i did that you knew was for you. i was just an outlet you chose for that moment.now i feel myself trying to swin, and what a disaster. the concrete is ripping my bones apart, and the blood isn't nearly enough to fill this pool up to let me rise up and drag myself out. and it might stain but no one will see it. we won't spend too much time with the empty. tired memories that don't rage if you won't let them. the debris of bone is basically me, the divider between the shallow and deep is right at my fingertips, i can almost touch it. but i'm losing consciousness and gaining nothing.
i meant nothing and that's what comes to mind. something you had hand picked you tossed out.
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