The Mouse

To love, and to lose. that is life I suppose.

What I wouldn't give to be a mouse.

Sitting on a counter top.
watching.
waiting.
watching the words fall from the computer screen,
fall right on the dust covered floor.
the floor made from hopes and long since forgotten dreams.

I wish I was that mouse.
stuffing my mouth full of letters that have broken appart.
"this is my life"
I would squeak, over and over til reality became real.
No more lucid dreaming.
no more nightmares.

over.
finished.
[move past this.]

Then I would leave. I'd take my tail in my paw, and scamper out the window.
I'd run as fast as my stupid little mouse feet would carry me.
and I wouldn't stop.
just run.
and run, and run,
and run.
[wait a second, I've already done this part.]
I've already ran away from everything.

but then,
why do I still feel like running?
Somehow, it isn't distance.
maybe, 
I need to get closer?
look inward?
will I ever find happiness *trapt in my own fucked up brain?
ah f**k it.
maybe so.
it is worth a shot.
what do I have to lose that I haven't already?


guess it's time to dig.
deep into the demons of my past.
the scorching heat of my own soul.
the white noise.
I will try to make sense out of this static in my head.
[like a stupid tv with stupid reception.]