These Are The Thoughts

These are the thoughts that go through my head in my backyard on a sunday afternoon when I have the house to myself and I am not spending all that energy on fighting with my boy friend Is he the one that I will marry and why is it so hard to be eager to myself and why do I feel cellularly alone am I supposed to live in this crazy city you mean I'm not acorn Where does the money go that I send to charities if we have so much why do some people have nothing still I do, I feel frantic when I first wake up in the morning why do you say you are spiritual yet you treat people like shit How can you say you're close to God and yet you talk behind my back as though I'm not a part of you, why do you say you're fine when it's obvious you are not why's it so hard to tell you what I want why can't you just read my mind Why do I fear that the quieter I am the less people will listen why do I care whether you like me or not why's it so hard for me to be angry why is it so hard to become push on and then so easy to get stuck and not the other way around Will I ever move back to Canada again I'd be with a lover with whom I am a student and don't ask why am I encouraged to shut my mouth when it gets too close to home, why cannot I live in the moment