Someone tell me

Someone tell me I’m wrong,

someone tell me I’ve blossomed.

Burn me at the stake, and my effigy too.

Burn me at the stake, and leave the ashes to simmer,

There is no need for water, I will burn out all on my own,

There is no need for water, I will cross the desert on my own.

I will continue to expand and retract, like a dying star,

like a rubber band pulled between fingers,

cats in the cradle and I can finally


until the rubber band breaks and  whips your fingers.

Red with fury now,

red with fight in them.

Mad enough to bang your fists,

mad enough to blow right through that red light,

into oncoming traffic,

into someone else’s eyes.

Clinch your fists, grit your teeth and tell anyone who will listen how mad you are,

howl at the moon and then some,

tell the moon how tired you are and how you can no longer look at the documents flayed out on your desk;

The moon will understand, I will understand.

Give up on those reports and

wipe away your milk moustache, it looks  really ridiculous.

Dig your feet out of the beach sand, the ocean wont wash you away that easily,

although it may try.

 You look ridiculous.,

I look ridiculous,

I have escaped the boxing ring before, and I can do it again, there is other beatings I would rather take.

I stand where the horses once stood,

I can feel their mane between my fingers,

I can hear their hooves and it sounds like a locomotive,

I wish I could be where the horses are now,

wherever the horses may be…

There aren’t many more places left to stand, even though the sign says standing room only,

many people are sitting,

many people have begun to build their nests.

They hide their luggage so well, I cant see it and neither can anyone else.

This room is full of nesting birds and apex predators,

And I didn’t bring a camera with me,

I only brought what I could carry, and I still spilled some on the way in.

I am sleeping like a camera over in the corner now,

shut down, but still recording.

My red light is blinking, and no one is really sure how to charge me, or where an outlet even is.

Dreaming about whatever it is cameras dream about,

but still rrrrrrrrrrrecording, still ddddddddddddreaming…

That is me, the camera,

I am on delay.

That is me, the audience.

I am on display.




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