It is just better to not have the time
maybe
waiting by the phone another night
maybe
wondering alone if it is worth the try
the five hundred pages book between my hands
the perfect shelter to hide from the world outside
I’ve been inside my room all this time
inside my brain I abide
It is best to fly around like like a busy bee
maybe
waiting for you to move towards me
maybe
keep on writing down what would happen if, if you made up your mind
printed words from strangers, my world now
the perfect intellectual excuse
I’ve been inside my library all this time
in their brain I abide
it is safe, I guess, to pretend I’m not feeling flattered
surly
to pretend I am not curious about your guitars
surly
to keep on assuming it is best to stay away from your warmth
these books I used to read, are not swallowing my loneliness
at least not the whole of it
this choice of living I’ve started questioning somehow
in my brain, in my own brain I finally abide
