Thursday, 24 December 2015

not even a mouse

all through the house I walked, not even myself, looking around like a stranger with a window into the life of some wannabe, I guess it was me,  not desperate just wannabe better I suppose. Wannabe more loving. Wannabe more real. Wannabe more conscious. There are books everywhere and a kindle with many more trapped inside it. Even more in my head. I'm your idea girl. I am yours. You can have me. Wannabe now, all through the house, rolling wheels of swiss cheese, not even a mouse... wannabe me, with or without you.