These Might Be Confessions.

I know every single line to every Harry Potter movie ever made.
If you close the curtains, you'd find I'll sleep for days.

There's a gallon of orange juice in the fridge for me everyday.
Sometimes I lay on the shower floor for water to hit my face.

I love to read books, but will claim not to have the time.
Maybe it's because most books are filled with fake, plastic lies.

I sleep face-down every night in a while.
To wake with my hair frazzled like wires.

Do you ever sing to yourself, wherever you are?
Or gather up your blankets and sleep in the car?

Forgive me, I think sometimes, I'm coming undone.
If I was ever together, complete, just as one.

My mind wanders off, to sweet places with her.
Dear God, does she know I want more than what's beneath her shirt?

But I dream of her lips (God, I sleep a lot),
she's more effective than pot.