Debt
I owe time some profound thoughts
All this sadness some incredible art
I owe failure some enlightenment
I can’t even find peace in written escape
A transparent deceiving reflection
Decorative and hollow
They keep hounding me for the variables
That amount to my disconnected state
As if the reason was just waiting behind my eyes
As if every unfitting emotion came with a manifesto
I mumble a sleepy response
Or shoot them an uncomfortable stare that is the closest thing to reason
And quickly turn away before they do
There’s nothing justified or sensible
About a headache born from the sounds of laughter
Or shame at loss in a game only I am playing
Everyone else’s success is a threat
Without even breaking a sweat
She realizes the dreams I’ve been counting on
And makes me want to beat my ambition to death
To give up and slip into an artlessness
To be one of them sitting at the table in the far right corner of the room
Its not a competition they keep telling me
I keep counseling myself
Like every other piece of truth
Every other inspiring statement
Guaranteed to temporarily satisfy
That walks in with a permanent illusion
Whose running out leaves me with another enemy
And justification for my refusal to fight again
Strap a muzzle on my foaming mouth
Only making it wilder and more fierce
Contentiousness could force me to achieve
But activity and the name attached to failure have a towering glares
That leave me
Esther in a hotel room inert
Unable to go the whole way
With either the Shoulds or Shouldn’ts
The only time I can applaud them is when I can steal some pride
Brag about their achievement
And feed on the swelling eyes and dropping jaws
Or because flattery will make you a drug even the most humble can’t get enough of
I’ve given up on trying to think
Of a more original and crafty way to say it
On trying to find an intelligent angle
I can barely stay attached here
And somehow everyone else gets involved
I treat love like a bulimic treats food
Binge and purge
Binge and purge
I don’t understand why my fridge isn’t empty yet
Disappointing and “disgustingly self-consumed”
I can’t let go of this dream that follows me around
Like a shadow aching for flesh and bones
A ghost of aging potential
The wrong motives have been removing
Stories and shine from my building
And no one can make sense of
Awareness that won’t breed change
So I return to the same song of remorse
A tired self-aware hum------
Incomplete.
All this sadness some incredible art
I owe failure some enlightenment
I can’t even find peace in written escape
A transparent deceiving reflection
Decorative and hollow
They keep hounding me for the variables
That amount to my disconnected state
As if the reason was just waiting behind my eyes
As if every unfitting emotion came with a manifesto
I mumble a sleepy response
Or shoot them an uncomfortable stare that is the closest thing to reason
And quickly turn away before they do
There’s nothing justified or sensible
About a headache born from the sounds of laughter
Or shame at loss in a game only I am playing
Everyone else’s success is a threat
Without even breaking a sweat
She realizes the dreams I’ve been counting on
And makes me want to beat my ambition to death
To give up and slip into an artlessness
To be one of them sitting at the table in the far right corner of the room
Its not a competition they keep telling me
I keep counseling myself
Like every other piece of truth
Every other inspiring statement
Guaranteed to temporarily satisfy
That walks in with a permanent illusion
Whose running out leaves me with another enemy
And justification for my refusal to fight again
Strap a muzzle on my foaming mouth
Only making it wilder and more fierce
Contentiousness could force me to achieve
But activity and the name attached to failure have a towering glares
That leave me
Esther in a hotel room inert
Unable to go the whole way
With either the Shoulds or Shouldn’ts
The only time I can applaud them is when I can steal some pride
Brag about their achievement
And feed on the swelling eyes and dropping jaws
Or because flattery will make you a drug even the most humble can’t get enough of
I’ve given up on trying to think
Of a more original and crafty way to say it
On trying to find an intelligent angle
I can barely stay attached here
And somehow everyone else gets involved
I treat love like a bulimic treats food
Binge and purge
Binge and purge
I don’t understand why my fridge isn’t empty yet
Disappointing and “disgustingly self-consumed”
I can’t let go of this dream that follows me around
Like a shadow aching for flesh and bones
A ghost of aging potential
The wrong motives have been removing
Stories and shine from my building
And no one can make sense of
Awareness that won’t breed change
So I return to the same song of remorse
A tired self-aware hum------
Incomplete.