If there’s anything life has taught me lately,
it’s that I desperately need to work on my crescendos.

Somebody raises their voice
and I armadillo up.

Asshole oversteps his bounds,
I’m the welcome mat at his door.

Pretty girl turns the corner and
what the fuck do I do with my hands?

Talk to me while I’m busy,
I may not even acknowledge you.

My mind is a one-track that will railroad
all your interests into oblivion.

Try to shift these gears, the clutch
seizes then my brain stalls

even when i’m genuinely curious
to see where conversation travels;

wanting
that critical human connection.

There’s only so many times 
you can pretend to play it cool,

only so much accismus
to carry you through the awkward.

She. Is. So. Beautiful
and I’m never gonna tell her that.

I’m gonna cave when someone fights me;
no bravery to see the battle through

because at some point I lost my confidence.
Possibly never had it.

Conflict shuts me down 
because movies aren’t real.

Knights don’t slay dragons,
heroes don’t get the girls

or maybe that’s just my learned existence
so far.

But if I’m not louder, I’m at least learning
how to not be okay with that.

The other day, she’d done her hair so pretty
and I would not clock out ’til I told her as much.

Took two hours to make the courage
and it was worth every minute for that smile.

So, what will come tomorrow?
Well, I’m aware of my nature.

Could be another round of reluctant accismus
but I feel like I’m at least one less -issi-.