sick of the scenery
where are the stage hands
they should be taking care of this
I am framed between wooden trees
badly painted
on stage in a high school auditorium
naked, like I usually feel
nothing seems to draw their attention
away from me
I'm silent, like I usually am
no shame or shock
no comfort in the predictability of it all
I've had this dream a while now
I could express disdain or surprise
perhaps victimize myself
to feel in control for a moment
but for what?
a moment of calm
amidst a maelstrom of chaos
no, I'll revel in it
I won't try to understand the audience
or their reaction
or interact with the other players
I'll stand here
naked and unmotivated
and let this period of frustration pass
If any of the things I wanted came to me
would I really be as happy as I hope to be?
I wish these thoughts would
more actively
counteract my fantasies of easy solutions
and deus ex machina
instead of just laying leisurely in my mind
passed out
drunk on the cheap beer of depression
while I drink the heavier stuff
just enough to stay fucked up
thinking that tomorrow is my big day
I'm sobering up
and i'll be happy tomorrow
hoping and dreaming
writing
working towards some far off goal
forgetting the ache for a bit
because, after all
it's only painful sometimes
man up.
yeah.
g'night.
I have to wonder, do you think of me?
ReplyDeletedoes the scent of regret, ever haunt you?
most times, my words never come out true..
often, I'm never able to explain what i mean
as I type the words seem forced and unconvincing
I cant even portay my reasoning behind the madness.
why bother with a comment after all this time?
why ruin my perfect stage left exit, the audience clearly isnt asking for an encore.
I dont need you, that's not it at all.
no, I dont miss your late night utterances of simple nothings.
no, I could never want to see you ever again...
dont get me wrong, I really dont know what I want.
maybe another shot? no. never.
a friend back? pish posh.
a facade to make you believe, I didnt care, no, I could never care again..
mother always said I was great at pretending.
maybe, what I long for, what I ask for, is a sign that I'm not crazy, that I'm not the only one who doesnt miss the madness...
-I trust you know my identity.
I have to wander, have you considered this?
ReplyDeletecan one sense closure, and is it affecting?
I rarely speak in absolutes and matters of truth escape me.
I never explain myself, but often I
come off as contrived, fooling no one.
but in this case I will make an exception,
and reply in total certainty, if in vain.
The last word, I require the last word
many of us do, seems it is human nature to hear ourselves speak last, to let the sustain of our own voices ring in our ears
for it is more comfortable to tell yourself your truth than to be told someone else's.
we confirm for ourselves our own beliefs
as if we needed them preached to us
reminding ourselves what has changed and what hasn't
the erosion that occurs
the change that a tide can make
what do you want, really, and what do we all hope for?
what do you hope for, and what do we all, really, want?
the same question, many answers.
is it crazy to search in vain for answers to questions that are unanswerable?
if you consider the fact that we all want the last word and yet last implies finality and singularity
closure
then this perpetual machine
this emotional clockwork
simply seeks more cogs
- You don't understand, and neither do I.
love you.