Undocumented Late Saturday / Early Sunday Thoughts

In a poetic scheme:

rooms

i miss the way my bed would shake when the trains went by
i miss you as well
there are so many things
that make me be
one way or another

sometimes there are things i could say
just like the other day
when you would be so hurt
and the only condolences i can give
are like strings from streamer hung for a funeral

friends stay, or leave, or come, or fade
i still think that is the way
this life works
and though being broke it will never make it
something you or i cherish

so many memories
can be erased
gone
without little more than a simple line

i could care, but i really don't

it's these things that make me scared

can anything make me, me
more than the defamated images i claim to be

sick and disgusted; happy go lucky

branded by scales and organs
it is now my turn to do it to you

this is all you get

you, whoever you wish it fore

this is who you are for

yourself