me and you is not real

I just want peace and quiet. Not pieces of sounds that hurt my feelings. You need my call to make you feel okay so go on and say good things about my hair. I miss the long talks with someone that used to care or just cared to use. The pictures that are framed don’t mean a thing. You say I could win a price, I say I have no price. But really I have. While I mix my dreams with real life, I wish they came true. Sleeping awake, images in my mind that look so true that I find myself questioning what is really real. Real is the phone call that ends with “see you soon” but not really. Real is the anger in my fingertips. Not real… is you? I wish I could submit the questions and they had all a reasonable answer. Not a good one, just a reasonable. I can question reason. Only poor minded can’t. If you’re keeping a low profile I’m asking people how is the place where I can find you. Probably they won’t let me in. My nails are dirty ‘cause I don’t care anymore. The picture may be lighter and the shot may be darker, but I’m still myself in here. I won’t do my best since I haven’t got nail polish. Recollections of and older text where words were so true to each other. I think I may read it again to see if I can talk like my writing.