Dialate Me

It's a perfect summer day outside but I'm consumed by this lump in my throat. It bears a sweet aftertaste that coats my stomach with feelings similar to the time my dog ran away.

Just because you can... go ahead and take your shyness pills. Just promise to put it all on the line every single time and we'll both be ok. But I have to warn you...just when you were thinking I couldn't get anymore flamboyant, I got a new vest and some shoes with teddy bears on them.

The real me is anti-matter. It’s the time/space continuum. It's the 4th dimension. Its all these theoretical ideas that can't be proven.

How I feel is “what killed the dinosaurs” and “how the pyramids were built”. Just guesses that maybe hit their marks and maybe are miles off.

Lately, my reflection appears as if it is just the hull of this spaceship, that is burning up in the atmosphere on it's way back to earth. About to crash hard at the learning curve.

Take this to press. I’ve only got four stories to tell and they're getting old. Dig up some new dirt. I'll air some more dirty laundry. Cause that’s all this is. A laundry room without any washing machines (nobody's coming clean on their own anymore).

Put the buzzing phone to my pulsating head. I tell us both, “I’ll be home soon”…we know it's a lie but it makes us both feel ok. I know this probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but it just feels better to get it out to you.