I’m sorry that I don’t always
Find the time for exercising
And sometimes my room is cluttered
I’m not a real clean person

I’m sorry that sometimes
I leave my cereal bowl
On the table
I don’t relate, half the time
To things that are important

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I know sometimes
I’m not perfect
I do not practice
What I preach
But neither do you
Cause no one can
Don’t mean to burst your bubble.

I can’t read minds,
You’d like me to
I wish I could
Cause then I’d know
Exactly when you’re mad at me
And then I wouldn’t need
To have these pointless
Panic Attacks
My brain thinks are so important
I should see a doctor

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I do well school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I like to think
I’m unique
I try to stand outside the crowd
But you told me
I sure blend in well
I think that’s mean
Because you’re the most
Basic ***** I’ve ever known
But maybe you’re right,
I’m just like you.

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

You’re right, Mom:
A "B" is not an "A"
I’m a hoarder
I’m not healthy
I’m pretty lazy
Quite complacent
Self-righteous
Inconsiderate

But I’m doing my best, Mom

Today I realized,
that sleep started avoiding me
as soon as you did,
and that thought has turned
my right brain into a fidgety mess,
and my left brain into mush.
You've killed my creativity,
and my sensibility,
all at once.

Sleep deprived,
                      
In disguise,

Still alive.

The past: the only thing
that cannot be rewritten
etched into timeline like
tattoos on skin.
Speaking of yesterday in clipped tones
hazed-over pupils
indulging in depressants
to stop the head rush.
We are habitual creatures,
though more than not the habit fades
walks away on legs that
creak with boredom
the sounds, we ignore them
knowing, they too will go away.

If you ask me if I'm okay, I'll tell you that I'm perfectly fine.
I stand in a sea filled with people, how could I not be fine?
I'm fine. Its a word that crumbles into its very existence.
It's a word that means something it was never intended to be.

If you ask me if I'm okay, I'll tell you I'm fine.
Yet - I wonder what would happen if I told you the truth.
I stand in a sea filled with people, but the one who doesn't like me rips me to shreds.
I'm fine. Its a word that means I'm crumbling into pieces.