This Is What Happens When People Try to Learn Me

I'm something....
Piece of sh---...

On first glance:
handsome and cocky

Average,
& not quite funny

Out of place,
A bit too happy

Kindof shy,
Scared into formality

Typical outcast,
Trys to seem trendy

Dramatic,
& kindof a hippy.

What do you look like?

I act like I can read people,
But it's just advanced stereotype.
I know what looks like
& How to imitate the hype.

But given the time,
Any look can go through.
Your reality shines within,
And shows in what you do.
Can two, ?
Kindred spirits
Hope to find,
Looking past character schemas in their mind?

You met me
At a very strange time

What can this be?
Who do you see?
You have me figured,
You know what I am.

But I haven't decided,
Keeping my identity open.

People

Everywhere you go,
People are People.
The Sky is the Sky.

I think one of the most important personal reasons that I travel is so that I can better understand people. What better way to understand differences than to take in and appreciate as many as possible? But I think I'm doing pretty well, anyways.
Who else wanders the streets of a city unknown to them, and sees how the history, the social structures, the everyday life, and the language influence each other? Who else thinks about those things while they're busy being a complete tourist? I mean, I know I'm a tourist here, and I'm not trying to hide it (beyond avoiding being annoying,) but I'd like to think I'm not just a tourist. I hate shoobies. (Thanks, "Rocket Power," that idea needed a name.) So I try damn hard to really not to be a shoobie.

So, when you have done all those things, what next? Do you just make a new list?
But shit, that last one seemed full of impossible dreams.....
And here I am again. I feel like I've done everything I wanted to do with my life.
"I said, 'What now?'
He said, 'I dunno, get married.'"

Smile

Real beauty lies
Just behind your eyes
As a smile, real,
though in disguise.

Thus, your spirit
Upon mine, impress
Your full, unhindered
Happiness.
It's love you hide
behind shyness
But a heart like yours
Is easily undressed
And mine's the same,
I must confess
This kind openness
You simply can't
Redress.

When our eyes meet,
Smile with me
Show your spirit
Openly
Bare yourself,
Your nudity
Pure, unadulterated
Your beauty,
that lies
Just behind, under
Inside your eyes
In the form of a smile
Though in disguise.

Taxi Driver

Would you take a kindness, a Pity on me?
And drive me from my waking dreams
To a place where I can die for a while?

Because I'm too alive right now,
And I've forgotten what it means

Forgotten the night,
My life

And how to breathe

Existentialism and Self-Loathing in Korea

What do you you do when nothing feels real anymore?
The music you loved is fake.
The love you felt evaporates.
The life you led is empty.
They said, "you bleed just to know you're alive"
But would that prove anything?

I'm bleeding, but no one's going to see it.
And if I see it, that doesn't mean anything.
Bleeding a life dry that feels lost
That feels like clockwork
Doesn't feel like life
So I'll bleed it out,
Til I reach some break
Til there's nothing left but who I am.
Til I gasp for breath at the cost of every superficial
Fake, unreal, unknown, unfathomable
Smirking, charming, mockery that is my face.

Am I even ready for that?
I'm not sure what I'd do if I knew who I was,
Knew that the rest of the world was real,
Knew that they could really see me.

Useless rambling.
If you exist, and they do too,
That doesn't mean that it's possible
Doesn't mean there's more to me
Than the smiling face of a fortunate man.

Why do you hate him?

Isn't this ego and id?
This is what we do, right?
I mean,
Everyone else that lives, that breathes,
That's real,
Does this too, right?

And I wonder how many other people
Are really self-aware
Are really concious, the way I feel now.
And how could I know,
When this is the only part we can never see?

Why do you hate him?
What do you do when he feels artificial?
How can I be real?