It always starts off this way;
Locked away in my space I listen,
And I feel. I let the silence I hear
Rape me, coax my soul to her altar,
And leave me with aches and in pain.
I feel dirty afterwards, like it’s my fault
I am all alone, easy pickings for the
Incubus laying in wait for me, every time.
And I am to Blame; I make my anxiety
Intoxicating. I hold that always busy
Neon sign that says; “Come get me, sweety!” Over my head.
I ask for it. If only I would join the busy bees,
And live my life by clicks, I’d be happy.
If only I’d sweep my feelings under my rug,
If I just act tough, I would be smug;
I would feign some aggression and become a man.
And I wouldn’t be in my space, waiting for her to come again.
I would not be confined to my limited devices,
Making my empty space welcome the cold, black hole that is me…
No essence, nor backbone to hold me steady,
But four walls, transparent like nothing, and just a bed I lay on
For our regular sessions, while I watch the world in my confinement.
With my wise words written in ink to my side
My comfort and my reprimand…;
“You live in a cage;
That’s what your world feels like.
When they meet a sage,
Who’s numb to the world’s hike.
They don’t see the bars
Blocking escape; the breeze,
She blows heat from mars
For their blind minds to freeze.”