She tells me that I'm better then the box I have created
out of glass, stone, steel, brick,
cardboard, aluminum foil, gingerbread, feathers, and silk
does it matter what it's made of?
So she says I'm better than said box
the one I place myself in to prepare for whatever attempt
may be perceived as failure
If I'm better, it'll break
If I'm better
I will have no protection
and no box
I will be more naked then I've ever been
I will be vulnerable to every twisted judgment
I will get hurt
I will be very sick and very flawed
but is it peculiar that I enjoy that?
Is it strange that for once, I might enjoy just being
..
dare I say it?
Free?
Free to be mean, unnecessarily harsh, and defensive
to be awkward, strange, and say what I feel at the wrongest of times,
to be happy, upset, to be kind to anyone I want to be kind to,
but most of all
..
dare I say it?
To be me?
and for once, be okay with that?
For once, be okay with less than perfect?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The abhorrence
Today:
The wind was upset. Who knows why but at the trees and the sand and everything else that found itself dangling on a string this morning. I went outside, then back inside, got my jacket, and went outside again. I stood at the bus stop kicking at rocks under my feet. I made fans by pressing my boot down into the dirt and pushing everything left and right. I guess I had nothing better to do than wait. On the bus, I wondered if it'd be better to stand so that newer passengers may have an opportunity to sit. I pushed the thought left and right the way I pushed the rocks, except my boot was not present at the time. Before I came to a conclusion to this issue, the bus stopped, the doors opened and I was outside again.
Fast Forward
Oh, hello theater bathroom we meet again. I lock myself inside you just to breathe and count the green tiles. I lock myself inside you just to close my eyes and think about what should have been. There is nothing else to explain my behavior. Everything comes out too fast. Exhaling inhaling the tears and the uncommunicative sobs and bursts of mumbles. I run my fingers through my hair to ascertain that yes, I have fingers and yes, I have hair. A few more months and I'll be in college. A few more months and I'll be...
Will, I really be okay?
Sh, I think I'm going crazy.
The wind was upset. Who knows why but at the trees and the sand and everything else that found itself dangling on a string this morning. I went outside, then back inside, got my jacket, and went outside again. I stood at the bus stop kicking at rocks under my feet. I made fans by pressing my boot down into the dirt and pushing everything left and right. I guess I had nothing better to do than wait. On the bus, I wondered if it'd be better to stand so that newer passengers may have an opportunity to sit. I pushed the thought left and right the way I pushed the rocks, except my boot was not present at the time. Before I came to a conclusion to this issue, the bus stopped, the doors opened and I was outside again.
Fast Forward
Oh, hello theater bathroom we meet again. I lock myself inside you just to breathe and count the green tiles. I lock myself inside you just to close my eyes and think about what should have been. There is nothing else to explain my behavior. Everything comes out too fast. Exhaling inhaling the tears and the uncommunicative sobs and bursts of mumbles. I run my fingers through my hair to ascertain that yes, I have fingers and yes, I have hair. A few more months and I'll be in college. A few more months and I'll be...
Will, I really be okay?
Sh, I think I'm going crazy.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)