Sleep on it.

The reality is I want to fail, everywhere I desire to succeed, I will fail.

My eyes itch, my head bobbles with the winds
And the smashing of steel on paint-stained concrete.
The idea of picking my nose to pass some time becomes a tasty idea.

Drained, sucked from my skin, then thrown down the escape hole. Never to be seen again.
And so my skin floats high like a mighty white flag.
For you to see.
And for me to puke in disgust.

And I roam, wander.
go everywhere but the centre.
Like walking around a giant cheesecake, damn it looks tasty.
How I love cheesecake.
And I can smell it's flavour
Yet, I do not eat. My mouth drools and my eyes become much wider.
Eventually...
I starve. Staring at this.. awesome cheesecake.

And I get angry at the cheesecake, I cry at the cheesecake. I sleep next to the cheesecake, perhaps stroke it, or maybe poke a hole in a really creamy bit and really feel the cheese.
I won't eat it.

And then I laugh at myself, half starved to death with embarresing stains all over;
All I had to do was reach out, and take it.


Courage; eating the cheesecake despite how embarressed, confused, stained, completely out of focus I may be.
Damn, cheesecake is awesome.