My painter friend looked at me and laughed,
"I can't draw, I've told you that," I said.
"What a sad life to not be able to place your emotions on a canvas,"
he grinned.
"I don't paint but I write," I replied, "Want to know the difference?"
Intrigued he awaited for my answer,
"Your art is for the eye, but mine's for the heart."

"I'm sorry," I whispered
As I drove away from the rain
And the city
And the people I've always known
As I skipped practice to drink tea and drive fast
But I didn't believe it,
And nobody who might have been listening did, either

We try
very hard
to be children.

I don't want to face my failures
Rather think I'm normal
I'm on track
A soldier
Fulfilling tasks
My purpose
Keeps surfacing
But I surrender in daily battles
Still being loyal to the chase
Waiting for the urge to change
You walk past me
Your struggles too
Its my feeling I worship
What I hold on to
No god, no guidance  
These thoughts are deceiving
They run this world
And I run

Spill it
Like a baby and a cereal
Spill it
You're an artist with a bucket
Spill it
On a thirsty mans soul
Just spill
Don't let it mold