steve carlton writing

I pose a threat they cannot get behind They look at me and keep wondering what's on my mind, It doesn't matter what I do, they judge me anyway I gotta keep in mind that it is their normal way, When our world views won't aline This feeling in their stomachs becoming so sublime, Cause I don't fit in their scheme When I am out there, chasing my dream, Or when I am being honest and real Share my emotions and how I do feel, They say I have a problem, it's unbearable to deal With me and when I am trying to heal, My mind, hurt from life, created a story Inside a story - so far, so deep, I cannot stop but worry, About you - not about me, believe this is true, I've got you on my mind, even when I need to get better But it seems to you it doesn't matter, So if you insist, I'll leave you right Here

I thought you were little Miss Sunshine turns out that after your first line, I had to realize you turned into Little Miss No-Replies, But worse than that the fact I tried to emphatize With your story and your attitude, Failed to recognize when you were rude And came back to what I knew, When my intention was to screw You against the wall and the floor, But then you left me and I stood in the door Oh little Miss Sunshine, Why did you try that first line? Doc told me the way of coping was addressing That's the only way I could ever stop stressing, Said I should write a letter and never send it That's the only way I could ever end it, But it's hard to give up hope And continued to drown myself in dope, Still I wouldn't stop defending You didn't lie to me I kept pretending, When I decided to confront you You were quick to start confessing, But then you went back to not replying Even when I was trying, man that's so depressing Oh little M

It is another one of those nights, where I can't sleep. It is another one of those rare nights, where I feel so bad that I start writing without putting in my contact lenses first. I don't look at the screen, but I try to make out what the poorly lit letters on my keyboard mean. More from my memory than from actual sight, but my memory is good, so I don't make too many mistakes. I don't really have the energy to leave my bed to put in my contact lenses, nor do I see the point. I just want to say something: I feel like leftover pizza. The crust of something that once seemed to be appetizing. The worst part being that it is not going to get any better, not by my own doing. I know that it's going to get worse before it can get better. Why is that would you probably ask? Because of many things, too many things at once. One of the reasons is that I know what is to come and my anxiety is having a lot of fun with me right now because of that. As I go through the motions