My silences are sprinting
They're so many, at once
There's a pimple on my wooden face
Waiting to be burst
But the silences come first
They threaten me with an explosion
I can already smell ashes
Grey, spotty, flaky, and choking
A ruined world remaking
No I'm not romanticizing
Someone else's war
All my problems are mine, okay?
My jarred edges
Reek of stale cynicism
My unlit mind
Damp and resistant to hope
I try to look like I care
Resharing brutal news
Replaying the victims' tears
I mimic activism
Lying passive in my bed of privilege
Unremarkable in my performative concern
As I think to myself
The world will always stretch, tear and burn
I am throwing my words around
Because I like their gibberish sounds
They're hurdles for the silent beams
That are racing towards me
And I don't want to be found.
If my memory was mapped with
Blood clots and muted screams
Would I be a patient, or a soldier?
If I were too tired
To believe in dreams of victory
Should I march any further?
Angry tears facing the wall
I fall, I fall, I fall
Thudding my way down every night;
Rock bottoms and nondescript floors
Are so dangerously alike.
A part of me sings upbeat karaoke
Pauses for breath and asks me if I'm okay
(Forgive me the pun)
And I sing along, it's great
What's the use of wallowing in sadness?
If keeping away sorrow was enough
I'd still have a chance.
But you can't just dance the way
All your life. Aim! Aim!
Be on top of your game!
(I could rhyme this line with 'shame'
If I had it in me. Sorry.)
I am sorry, but perhaps I'm not.
The guilt for the absence of guilt I've got
Eats me inside when I imagine my life-
A cumbersome, crooked centipede of Time
Always ending up smashed into a fleshy patch
A huge footstep crashing down, down, down.
Or maybe I'll just be around
For pleasant winters and sultry summers
Gliding with peppy music
Perhaps I won't be sick.
I think I'll fight it.
mimimusing 