The depth of Me.

It's time for that season and I thought of bringing you good tidings. You've brought them to me countless of times, more than I had never asked for. I was pierced by the memories of you being taken for granted. At an opportune moment, you had even said that I had become the same as that offhand remark, halfmindedly - maybe. My heart stung, then the heat of the sear set in a little while later on until this meantime.

Was auf immer, I think to myself.
Ich habe keine Ahnung...


I walked inside of the building to find what I was looking for - the gifts that I sought out for you. I knew part of the reason why I felt that I had to, wanted to, and were inclined to - love, and another half, guilt. I found the things that I was struck to, then I bought them, got a gift box, and carried them out of the way to where they will stay - here in this little room, where I lay. I'd wait for the more expensive prize for you to trophy later, when I'd know exactly what you want to display with my own affection for you.


I have a hard time setting my mind to where you are at. The fact is, I can't, and I'm not capable of it. I find that I guess it's probably because of the fact that you aren't going to let me - or maybe you find that you don't want to allow it, based on some subtle hurt that still resides in your confounds.


I figure my only response to this is to set my heart back to let the boy go, is what I tell my mind to do - or at least, what my mind tells me. I can never make the distinguish. I do what I'm told, or what I tell myself - and I keep to my own heart part when I'm with you. I'd be kept at that, just so that I don't get in your way. I know that I'd most likely get pushed over by you, whether that is said or not - you'd look me dead in the eyes and I'd know there'd be no bargain. It's in the cut-throat decisions, I've come to recognize. I could be considered as the third wheel by you, come second thought.


I can't distinguish you. This is how the merry-goes-round in how I'm spinning. Here it goes again - I don't know what I mean, I don't know what you mean. I don't know what I'm meaning to you, I don't know my meaning to you. What is our meeting, meaning? It's difficult with an unclear meaning.


I don't know what you want - and that's what is difficult to me, the struggle that's continuous in my trying to grasp in my consciousness about you. I think that I might be in too deep. That I've fallen too deeply in order to be used by you. Consciously, I'd make half the effort just to know, what do you want from me? What are you using me for? I'm on a ground, hands and knees, asking you, God, some kind of divinity, or anyone - antworten Sie mir, bitte. Maybe there is no way that you can answer, truthfully, and quite possibly - perhaps there isn't one because there is none. My only conclusion is that I'm fallen. You can have me. I've some liquid left, the blood in my red veins that hasn't turned blue yet, the dying oxygen that's come out from under my skin. You can use the nitrogen to set me off on fire. I would burn all the way down to the lower grounds for you. Please don't ridicule me, I'm only melting in my thoughts for you.


I've loved. I'm terribly shy at still loving you. You're a real thing - and I've been whittled away at unrealistically. When you asked me to let you in, you were already staring at my core, when I was stark and stripped away. I've been splayed open since then, waiting for any answer, any thought that's on your mind, any thing you want to tell me, any want or need or struggle that you're having... yet, I'm still stuck at bay.


Ich weiss nicht, is the only answer and question to you that I can think of. Maybe I'll never know and it will be lost in the depths of my mind, until another time - where this cycle begins again. This time around, I still don't know where I, we, us, you - are going.


I dwell and I meditate in my mental repertoire when I come to think about you. I find myself falling before you can even catch me.


So then I'm left looking at the ripples from the bottom's up where I'm left not certain about their creation.