[this isn't the lost notebook poem. I just sat down to write and this sprung out. in fact....] Sprung

(this reads best when read in silence)

no you don't HEAR me because I'm not screaming, I'm typing typing typing and it's how I SPEAK but you don't HEAR me because it's commonplace, it's all commonplace. here's the thing, my dear, this is the thing, says Fink, this is the thing, that you are all yous and I am a me but pronouns they sway and skew and you all think you're you and you all think I'm me, but what I want in a you is for you to be me. what I want in a you is for you to make free see be flee FLEE from how many times I've looked at you, not the you YOU'RE thinking and thought: if you KNEW how I care, you'd put its S back on front, tack it on like a memo to a tree, tack it on like it's got no place to be, I said if you KNEW how I care, maybe you'd reciproCARE, sit on a brick wall after using her in a stall, sit near a fountain of youth, a fountain of knowhow, a fountain of know how to fix what we have. know how to fix what I do and do again, know how to fix what I need from a friend. you'd tack the S back on front and bottle the Scare, bottle the wares, bottle the growing you think you know how to share. you think you know how to fare, pride yourself on pride, forgetting the times you've tried to glue what you thought fit together, but you don't KNOW cause you can't HEAR me. and if you could you wouldn't care, you see, the way you muse on others forces me to muse on THIS and when you ask me the matter, when you ask me what matters, I stumble because you're not what I'm used to, I said I'm used to sending the friend in after me, waiting the months to think I'm fine, underestimating the amount I've learned and now call mine, I'm used to the games and break and swine, but you, you had the pearls, you had the girls, but I didn't care, you see, I could look past and passed the past and pass the past and trade him in like you said to do, trade in those years for a fresh set of cheers, trade in that future for a new set of fears, and the fear it would swim like my heart did to him. swim like my heart, swim like my, swim like, swim swam swum, swim like my heart did to him before its feet felt the scum of the pond bottom it sank to, the pond bottom it pushed from, now doing the backstroke on a surface that gleams with the moon in the day and the sun in the night, doing the macarena on a surface that I thought I'd broken through. the surface of you I thought I'd sprung anew but I must not know what I'm TALKING about, cause the caps lock's on lock and I don't know what you're talking ABOUT. the stings of notgoodenough reflect on your handling more than my bantering, more on your stammering than on my flattery, the stings they POISON and you're too hurt to hurt but you HURT me. I'd already healed and you HURT me. and I don't care what you say, I don't envy the play, I don't seize Seize the Day and you don't care that you .hurt. me. so I transfer cities, transfer headlights, transfer moonshine, transfer what's mine and he's scared shared dared to think it's him but it's not, it was me, it was me chasing, it was me chasing the sting with the sweet, the lost with the heat, it was me chasing anything but what I'd been chasing. anything but the green-eyed prize that cared not when I cried, and when I say cried I mean tried, cause I thought it'd hurt more than it did! I thought it'd hurt more than I did when I stood on the street and thought **a heart breaking** and thought **a life changing** and thought of new horizons, watched his tears and thought **time taking** but thought (new horizons) and the tears I shed cast crowns. the tears I shed lay down on a bed of __seldom__ lay down on a bed of (boredom) cause pain it is monotonous but you've gone and learned a double twist, you did keep in touch, you tied the ties too taut til my freedom was strung up in the You up above! strung up in the You full of love while the haters they love not the love but the dove, chasing peace to the streets, chasing calls from the fleets, they hate the love I'd Love with, hate the dove I'd Shove with, cause you don't HEAR me. you don't hear me. don't hear how to sit there and be happy how to sit there and stay sappy how to sit there and grow strapping, you see, my obsession with dreams are obsessions with things I know not of, things I know caught the dove, things I bless with word of mouth. qwerty of mouth, drrty of mouth, sleight of hand, contraband, foreign land, you see, you don't hear how to sit there, in a car that drives countries, like a scar that knows plenty. if you knew the scars, knew the tar and the char, you'd tack its E back on like the ink into skin, tack its E back on like I forgot to say "when." so the scarE keeps on scarring and the stare keeps on marring all I'd worked to keep barring. and the fountains keep flowing and the sins they keep showing all you thought you were knowing but the passive aggression and neediness mentioned are lowing. lowing like the tide of what's true. lowing like red hair burned blue. lowing like my need has for you.