Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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The trapped balloon that tries in vain to float away. Wrapped around the bushes and held down.
The birds that fly free in the sky, while the weak one stays on the ground.
The wind that holds up the wings, and the wind that tugs at the grounded.
People fly by, people walk by, people drive by.
Time goes by, while watching the world go by.
Always around me.
I wish I could go too.
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The sun creeps in through the blinds, the birds sing and sputter.
Tiny room, quiet neighborhood. Children play and families grow.
In a house of people I don’t know,
Feels like a hotel or a hostel or…
Not home.
Staying out every day, riding buses or walking in circles.
Never staying in one place.
Can’t find home when it’s cut out, pushed away, an ocean too far.
Can’t go home when I don’t know where it is.
The box is not my home, but the park, the ocean, and the mountain around me, are.
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Loudly and sharp as the dogs howl and the Chimera hisses.
My friend says,
Tomorrow.
And that makes a wonder.
That the screaming isn’t terrible, it is but a sound of what he hears and wishes not to.
Never to be happy, but the wish that they could. Judgement of souls put through hell, the imbalance of the passing of misfortune from generation to generation.
That souls who should have been saved not failed, would never be failed.
Not judged for the lot, but for the decision out of it.
Or how to keep those around them from falling as well, when they were thrown in the hole themselves.
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It’s like the knife twisting in my chest, that we could be, but you won’t let me be me.
You could simply, break out of the box or, say it’s just me.
Say somehow I’m the exception to the rule, or that I’m fine as I am and you’ll love me even as I change,
But even as I stay the same.
I wish you’d turn around, I wish you’d make an exception.
I wish you’d hold my hand. I wish you’d sleep behind me, I wish you’d come over.
I wish you would give me a chance.
I wish it was that easy.
Just like it was easy. I wish I could help you heal, and touch your face, and pet your hair and touch you.
I wish I could touch you.
I wish you knew how much I want to touch you.
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As the train rolls in, and then out of the station,
Watching the people getting on and off.
Stuck and thinking, if I just go, if I just went,
I could find, but I won’t.
This fear of being seen, because who knows.
If he did know, perhaps he wouldn’t meet my eye.
But there’s still this memory, not memory, like impression
That it’ll happen, but if I ruined it, then the meeting will never happen as it should have.
I really do wish, I could start again,
But even words erased,
Still existed, in the way way back.
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On a day when we have finally met, almost certainly the same situation as now.
A man who I love who loves a woman who is behind him or in front.
One sided love, but the memory of having met. I wish we could meet.
I wish it could be normal.
The pain of knowing I’ll never have you, watching you and him with the ones who aren’t me.
But it’d be perfect, to see you getting married and being happy and finally having a happy ever after.
I have no more fight to try to pretend, writing my perfect day with the selfishness that it would be us.
How could I do that? I wanted it, but it was cruel to imagine.
Instead, my perfect day would be yours.
The day when your love is finally yours.
Elucidating Questions 