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Wind blowing from behind
The smoke lingers in front
And you, behind,
Have forgotten the mood.

The mood used to be quiet!  
The mood was silent
And you turned it into ranting
You turned me off your instigations

But, wait, no mood, no more thinking
Thinking that this is not the way to go 
But it’s compulsive, I have no choice

I used to love you for who you are
Now I love you for who you were
And this comes as no surprise
But the melting plastic of your demise

Covers your disguise 
You so coyly contrive
In the midst of rounded eyelids
The size of my nail beds.  

I’ve learned to grow peaceful in the midst of conflict
I’ve learned to practice angst as if it were an Olympic sport
Gold medal angst!  Now there’s a word—
To throw down the gutter if there was no gutter at all.  

There is no love, only in haunted houses.
I will only go see a play if it is about dead children.  
I will not be a person there.

If I acted like you and like a person, i would invite attention,
And god knows I want Nothing to do with attention.

You can love me for my quirks.  This is my biography, written by an insomniac,
Some time but not now.  She was born.  The baby liked to eat and sleep
(as most babies do!) but this one loved it more and loves it still today at 22.
She was creative, I guess, but only or especially in comparison with 
Her lame choice of friends; at 22, nameless, friendless, sloppier but neater,
She began smoking.  She began drinking diet coke and created herself
A thousand times over, this circle of smoke would not end.  She won’t admit to 
lying
But she’ll admit to mania, does that make her a maniac?  

I wasn’t in the mood to do that
Thought I’d never be in the mood to do that
But now that I ate a chocolate turtle
I’m in the mood to do that.

That was the street I walked down when I was on pcp.  
I refuse to be admired!  I refuse to be judged!  

This reminds me of something! 
That time I was happy!
That time I was all by myself
It’s not alone we want but it’s to be alone
That is the definition of by oneself—
No it’s not!  You don’t understand me for escaping you,
Well understand this.
I am not myself, and when I go outside myself,
I become by myself.  When there is someone else of me
Around, then I can’t well have you around!  
Three’s a crowd so get over yourself!

Listening to Beck, I’ve forgotten what I was saying, 22.
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