#untittled

I don't remember what it feels like, my head's just a mess

"Use your imagination, write about the ends of the rainbow"

My imagination's crooked, i can't write about things i don't know

They say happiness is a choice, like I didn’t misplace the map

Like joy didn’t pack its bags and ghost me mid sentence

I write with borrowed light, second-hand smiles

And just hope it hangs on when time flies

Scribbling memories that feel like a rumor

Coping with my messed up humor

If happiness is a color, mine got washed out

Swallowed its voice so no one hears it shout

Left on the line too long, sun bleached and tired

So numb, so overwhelmed, like pain's just how I'm wired

So I write about the mess instead

Because it's the only thing that makes sense in my head

Because at least the mess knows my name

David Lynch (US 1946)

Untittled Five (2008

I hear a hum that time forgot

Like a song the sky won't sing aloud

It floats between the quiet and the crowd

Don't know where it came from, but it knows me

Like it's been waiting, soft and lonely

I'm counting the quiet like seconds made of light

Painting the same storm with a different night

It doesn't feel right but it sounds like me

This hum's the only thing that lets me breathe

I walk through rooms that used to know my name

But every mirror turns away in shame

The streets remember how i used to feel

But even shadows ask me if I'm real

Now I'm having nightmares

About a place i was raised to call home

Familiar walls, unfamiliar tone

I fall asleep, never really alone

Counting the quiet in every creak and moan

Haunted by echoes that sound like my own

This hum drifts me away from the dark, away from the cold

When your young you get told You can be anything you want whatever You Wana go to the moon You can do it You Wana be a chef You can do it

Then your older and everyone tells you to be realistic

If it’s not realistic then how come other people can do it and you can’t

What makes it impossible for you?