Thirty Going On Infinite

There are eight months before I bid goodbye

To just the second decade of my life

Yet, I feel infinitely old

Weighed down by an invisible hand on my heart

I struggle to sense authenticity in

Anything I feel now

I feel like a fake particularly when I laugh

I fear the tightening around my throat

When I struggle to let loose the words

That crowd within me

And when I do manage to say something

The release brings me no relief

Instead, I find I dislike the sound of myself

And the grass seems greener when I don’t utter a word

*****

I now know that most people don’t listen

They only talk, often without listening to themselves either

And there are a few, like me, who are born

To just listen and offer no comment

To just speak when spoken to

To just breathe until I don’t have to

 

 

 

Do you exist?

Are there days in your calendar

That are empty?

Are there thoughts so loud in your head

That refuse to let you sleep?

Are there lists with little check-boxes

That taunt you?

Are there hours and days and years

That were swallowed anonymously?

Are there others with lives and dreams and achievements

That make yours seem small?

Are there any traces of the child and the teenager

That you once were?

Are there ways to change the heart

That won’t wound you and bleed you to death?

Are there words within you, deep within you

That have forgotten how to be born through your hand?

 

Are you there anymore?

Do you exist?

The cliff

I still walk alone
But now there’s a shadow
Beside mine
I think it’s you, but
There’s no need to
Turn around

I’ve reached a cliff
With a final decision
To make:
To take a step forward
And feel the air
Compress my existence
Or,

To sit down at
The very edge and see
The world for both
Of us;
Live my life knowing
Your shadow
Is a delusional burden
I carry willingly

Face my farce

Battles between you and me

Are the ones I lost

Even before they begun

But I entered the field anyway

And my pride always held my head

My voice rang with determination

Singing in my veins

And I threatened you with

Consequences dire

My words eloquent, I screamed

Like a right wronged

Like a bird caged

Like a life wasted

***

And in such contrived strength

Is my power

I put up my act for me to judge

For me to be convinced; and finally

To believe

And once I have believed this farce

You never stood a chance

You might as well pack your knives