(Think of this as a soliloquy,
or an actor/actress speaking out loud
Yes, you know, yes you do.
You know what its like to feel
in that skin that covers you.
And what it feels like to be
We were all beautiful boys,
Now, you know, mostly now,
a world that distracts
and deconstructs it seems.
You're filled with unquiet noise
and sleepless destructive dreams
where you are running from yourself
or the someone who looks very much like you.
The world, it pushes. The world distorts. It doesn't fit.
It makes bad sport
Stirs your insides out. Makes you reel from all
the confusion that you feel. And, how do you appeal
to your better self?
Do you even have one?
I have found I've lost myself. And I know I'm
not alone. I'm in good company.
We're all inching by, relying on the dimestore cheap.
Some days aren't our own. We lie awake, busying
ourselves listening for the key and the creak
of a door we hope opens as we play at sleep.
We all wait for the night doors of our imaginations to swing
open wide. To let us into Nirvana's deep
folding us into skin canyons
of sweet relief. (So we can hide.) Oh, oh, oh...
To find the beautiful girls and boys
we used to be within ourselves
and with one another.
afflictions and addictions
have become our latest fling, alas.
We hate the pain we inflict and feel
but we make it queen and king, and we
cannot help ourselves as we make it last.
Our roles are too familiar in the drama of our past.
Its too two personal. Its a flinching glance in the mirror.
And a misplaced the key to the doors of perception,
as we mumble grumble vaguely:
"What its like, huh, is this what its like?"
I believe this was written during a "heatwave."
Copyright and Written August 2011
All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World
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