everyone else seems to know what i need better than i do myself. in fact i am the only one who can´t see it. how do you know all these things about me that i didn´t even know about myself? in a crowd or even in two i am not even the one that talks the most, yet you all have me pegged. and when i am riding the miserable metro what do people who only see my exterior and have no connection think of me then. and if you saw me at a party from a distance would you think the same. i feel like a divinci hidden beneath a pollock.
today i sat on the metro and could have sworn i´d seen the same white paper bag in the same spot under the seat in front of me on two different occasions. i thought the bag was following me. the life of a paper bag. now i am your eyes. you see a lot of feet from down there, are they any different from the distracted city faces i cannot gain eye contact with. society is wearing it´s face on it´s ass and feet on it´s shoulders to bear the weight. i move and lip sing to my ipod. i think i communicate better with my energy if at all.