JUST ONE

[crackity__jones]

so i've been hanging out down by the train depot.
no, I don't ride, i just sit and watch the people.
and they remind me of wind up cars in motion
the way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
and i want to scream out that it all is nonsense.
all your lives one track,
can't they see it's pointless?
but just then, my knees
give under me,
my head feels weak
and suddenly
it's clear to see
it's not them but me,
who has lost my self-identity
as I hide behind
these books I read,
while scribbling
my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me,
with some ideal ideology
that no one can hope to achieve
and I am never real,
it is just a sketch in me.
and everything I made is trite
and cheap
and a waste
of paint,
of tape,
of time.