There’s this constant urge to get to know what’s inside your brain
I can’t help but to want to itch your wet skull
Nothing seems to touch you
Nothing seems to hold you
Not even my eager hands
Shaken into the desire to find out the shape of your teeth
Is funny how you actually don’t really know who someone is

Never
Will-
always -

be surprised by your steps
Maybe even....
Horrified.
You see I sometimes live too much in my mind
I live stuck on its walls
Glued to the thoughts of what I should of left behind

I need to know ...
How can you be so quiet ?
So still?
Then I wonder-
Does your hands also find themselves looking for me ?
Do your eyes shed as you see me walking away?
Do you think of me like I think of you?