Gerry poured every fibre of his being,
From the day he hit puberty,
Until the day the life slowly slipped from his body,
Into the art
Of being a gentle man.
He raised his voice only once,
At a fly that had entered his home,
And the force of his wrath shattered its wings,
And sent it plummeting to its doom.
And Gerry died.
Absent of passion,
With all his emotions and fears buried deep inside,
And no one ever knew his true nature.
My breathing grew shallow,
The walls closing in all around me,
Slower than the eye could trace,
Yet my beating heart knew the truth.
Incrementally, one half at a time, I was being crushed.
I only hoped that the walls never covered the distance of the other half.
There stood a man,
In a Canadian tuxedo,
Willing himself to walk into work,
For the first day of a job,
That would end at 5,
And endless boredom.
Round and round and round and round,
I can’t stop thinking of the endless patterns,
Prevailing, nay ruling, our society,
Through fear of the unknown
And fear of change.
We are slowly adapting,
It’s just not fast enough.
She knew, by the break in his half smile, but the slight fracture in his completely perfected mask, that nothing was alright. That all was not right. And by her knowledge, suddenly everything became, perhaps not all right, but half right, and it was enough.
He took all of her.
Sucked her back,
Drained her down,
Drank her marrow,
Consumed her flesh,
Until she was nothing,
And he was her everything.
This twisted yin yang danced around the corners of her retinas whenever she left the house,
Hypnotizing until the end of time,
Which is a week from now.
The balloons floated through the air,
Cascading through the background as if they were nothing but filler for a frame filled with fanfare and fun.
The music rang out through the grounds.
The doors finally opened.
The stampede raced through the threshold,
Noses to the ground,
Smelling their way to cotton candy.
I want to be trapped in a picture around your neck,
Even if I cease to exist from this world,
And the next.
Living for all eternity enclosed in your breast,
Stalling for time by your heart,
I can think of nothing more exquisite or worthwhile.
Living life as a memory, my world is malleable, and frighteningly limitless.
He walked all around the circumference of the room,
Pausing to paw at a couple of his favourites,
Lost in the stillness
That wax can provide.
They were forever stuck in time,
Trapped in place,
Still breathing faintly,
As his design sunk its way into their lungs.
Mr. T looked out over the sprawling cedars on his front lawn in that little suburb outside Chicago and hated the monotony that his existence was slowly, slowly, slowly degrading into. He picked up the chainsaw, and pitied the yews.
I slipped out the back door,
Through the alleyway
Dripping with catgut violin strings
Being set out to dry,
Past the crumpled newspaper stand,
(the stand was crumpled like a newspaper,
Or only sold crumpled newspaper – you want something new, go somewhere else),
through this terrifying wonderland,
And into your car,
Where we lay down,
And never moved again.
For all my thought crimes
Against your humanity
And against your warm embrace.
For all the words that slipped away
Into that stream of stars,
As we gazed up
And try to get away from this place.
I flew the coop,
And you’re still grounded with clipped wings.
My greatest fear used to be heights,
Of reaching higher stratospheres than mankind,
Because I was afraid of excellence,
And how it would set me apart from the rest of the world.
And then I said fuck it,
And starting daring to fail,
And fell up into the clouds.
It’s been days since I’ve left this sequestered mess of an apartment.
It’s been days since I was brave enough to venture back into the sun.
And the smell is getting stronger,
And the food is getting stale,
But if I wasn’t brave enough to stay out the first time,
What fallacy makes me believe I can do it again?
I’ve stood alone,
For six hundred years,
In the middle of a forest of trees,
Who look exactly like me,
But do not hold my lines on the inside.
Whom I have never communicated with,
Or rather, who have never understood me.
Just waiting until the day where I’ll be cut down.
He swept the dust from his mind,
And presented a clean slate,
To his ever fading memory,
And disgruntled opinions of the world,
To try and reboot a system,
An inoperable system,
A crashing system,
Of the world that fell between his ears,
When he tried
Barry was unnoticed,
Standing last in line,
Hoping he was going to be picked to be on the team,
But odd numbers were his enemy,
A colossal monstrosity that he ‘couldn’t even.’
So he sat on the sidelines,
Letting that pattern follow him through life.
I pretended to be asleep this morning,
Or last night,
Both have been blurred together,
So you wouldn’t have to feel guilty when you inevitably gather your shoes and choose to sneak out as the sunset sneaks in through the blinds.
Maybe today won’t be like every other time…
But when I open my eyes, this dream will stop.
Fake a snore,
Control the breath,
And try not to break.
All I can think about is ABBA,
Until they drag me away to the padded room,
Where I can dance like a dancing queen all night
and all day long,
Fuelled by the power that celebrity and media gives me.
I feel free.
I am free.
If I was a bird.
I am a bird.
I’m like a bird.
I will be the greatest groupie of all time.
Here we go.
The bottle smashed.
And what was still a party for the girls,
Became a war for the boys.
Fuelled with courage, or perhaps just rage,
They sprung into action,
Defending honour that didn’t exist,
Or those who never needed to be saved.
It was all out war,
But I guess this is how those things usually start.