The Monkey Says: Place This On That Shelf

I call this an enigma I cannot decipher or pick the right book out to answer.


I refuse to acknowledge for fear of admitting because denial is a much desired way although really it does one no good; running away that's what it's called. A facade, well placed oh so well however not tough to portray although that's how they always seem to be because I don't know, this strikes only when there is one chair in a room or maybe perhaps it's a facade too quaint.


Natalie Imbruglia carries such a pretty face, those eyes that could write a book and Torn seems like a personal experience like how any other ordinary person would encounter resulting in a torn heart and fickle emotions or maybe it's just me. Generally basically actually about nothing in particular although it may seem and nobody believes in horses when they neigh even though in truth, the white one that stands out in the crowd and even though is happy to be, does wish for moments it was a chameleon.


I do wonder the root of the plant, where its heading and how it turned out to be in the way it is how it's different during the day and the night, how mistakenly wrong even though perky is an adjective so overused like how Vitamin C could be green for all you know. I sing but songs are not written for you how they were not written for me yet I sing for you, although it's always a juggle and it's hard to decide.


However here I am again, not wanting to decide because I must catch the runaway train for then I'll never be coming back, to the same phase although really, it's a repeat of 5 years ago, 1 month ago and now banging through the walls of my bubble. The way I do is not the way I want it to be but look what you've done now I can't go on without you because I'm naked and I can't fake it, not that strong without you don't wanna love you and I don't oh who am I kidding but I got you singing.