Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Loquacious spirits

The beating of the drum brings them all to the house,
And I, being the only one to see them
Have begun to go crazy.
I will not go outside until after the drummers have stopped,
Until their hollers and wails fade,
And until I am no longer hearing a grown man cry.
They follow me until I speak up,
Telling them I'm too tired,
Telling them that I need MY time too.
These loquacious spirits so eager to dive into my wisdom
That sometimes I see that I've none to offer this time.
So awaiting the day when the boards are at rest,
So that I may rest if but for an ounce of time,
To let my withered mind sleep
In a coma-like slumber that would keep them
From asking any more of me.
They slink away into the shadows,
Have I offended thee?
Some come to me when I cry and tell me
That god is a magnificent creature to allow
The beauty of mind to leak tears of wisdom to the ground,
To sprout up more insight.
I say he's unnerving for allowing me to feel such torment.
I want to beat the earth with my fists,
And tell it to make them impede,
For I am only human, and I do need my respite,
That I go to school, and clean house, and job hunt,
And I watch out for my family members,
But I have to watch out for them as well.
I am one person, a mind that comes from sorrow and strife.
I cannot be everyone's shoulder to lean on,
For I've no shoulder to lean on myself.
I don't ask for privacy,
Just a break from these two worlds that
I was thrust into,
Like I was dropped from a black hole in the middle of the sky.

April 1, 2004

*I cannot expect most people to understand what the hell I'm writing about. The drummers are indian drummers for those of you who are confused. Um, it's been a long hard week and this week is barely over so I vented and I'm not hateful but just very depressed and sad. Again, I'm not expecting anyone to understand.

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Loquacious spirits

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