The days where you just feel okay in yourself are my favorite
Where others don't abraise you like an itchy wool sweater
Where trouble doesn't sit in your stomach like bad pasta
Where you can float along, just being you
Feeling confident that your face is fashioned in just the right way
That your tights are pulled up
That your shirt is pulled down
Those days where you just embrace the fact that others talk
But it doesn't have to define you
I know I have trouble with this
I think we all do
Others talking is a great part of the things that make me unhappy
I think "Well, if only that person wouldn't be talking about me, I would be happier"
But when the truth is, I can choose whether or not to listen
I can choose whether or not to sit with them
Or whether or not I believe something someone else is saying about my life
Because we all know that other people are the experts on all our problems
Fastening their opinions of us based off the exterior of our faces
Well, if there is someone who knows more about me than I know myself
Come, please have me meet them, because I would sure like the answer key to life's book of problems
Because perhaps they play God, too.
They say that the walls have ears;
a frightening concept to me
when I imagine all they must know.
These walls that hear the name
that I whisper in the dark,
These walls that silently stand by
each night my sobs fill the room.
And if walls could talk,
what of those impenetrable walls
surrounding my heart?
Would they blab every secret and insecurity,
would they speak of my worsening condition
to anyone willing to listen?
Where am I?
I can't decide.
I'm lost between the traces of a past love so
And the inklings of a new
It's the outside I like,
It's the inside that matters.
Is there anything there?
When I'm with her
Of the other sometimes.
She knows of my straying thought.
Where am I going?
I've reached the city limits,
And I'm not satisfied.
It's always darkest before dawn
And the sunrise looks best
From outside the city.
Time will tell,
Is Time's biggest vice.
Until Time whispers
The secrets that are always
Will be my virtue
some tongues are forever wagging
where it all comes from I do not know
and how the universe soaks it up
word by word and offsets it all
balancing with the silence of space
vast sump collecting all the chatter
storing and dissipating Earths gossip
I somehow feel that life isn’t real.
There are fragments, I see them separate from one another –
Yet they’re all so obviously intertwined.
Apart apart apart.
Everything is set apart.
Connected yet not.
Perhaps a tree has fallen across the lines?
Its blocking the signal.
Interrupting the charge
Yet at the other end people still hear it-
Oh they hear it alright.
But it was passed on without my knowledge.
Passed on without any inkling, or desire, from my part.
And the effects are there -
Perhaps a spark jumped across just as the tree came crashing down?
The other end heard the call.
They heard and they picked up.
They responded accordingly.
So when I stumble in, ready to deliver the news -
Or not deliver, to dance around the subject-
They grin and say “oh, we knew all along!
Did you think that we’d approve?”
Shocked, I stammer, pretend it’s fine
As though there was nothing wrong with that line
They giggle behind their hands in evil glee
And proceed to talk of someone other than ME
“Did you know; SHE’s pregnant?!!”
They haply yap,
Merrily waving at the poor chap.
So apart - yet so close!
The parts of my world intertwine
And sadly I glance around
As their mouths flap and fingers waggle
Oh! What marvellous company I have found!
Sat at the hairdressers
Hearing the gossip
Relaxes a woman and her senses.
Nothing outside the door of the salon
Just the head massage, and gossip.
The world has stopped as her locks
If only a closed door could keep the world at bay.
But, the door will open,
the world will flood in
and with it, for next time, more gossip!
Random as it can be
Few harmless gossip that
In through yours
And out through mine they go
Yet into the minds of SOME!!!!
Can be twisted to such measures
That can make the closest of friends
Such extreme foes
Is it just human nature?
Or is it desperate cries for attention
That makes us so susceptible
To such lengths
Realistic scenarios ....
So much so
That we layer over the actual truth
And after a bit....
Unable to see past the possibilities
The actual truth!!!!
Funny isn’t it
That simple words that when arranged with innocence
Can mean the world
Those same words when shuffled
Can be deadlier than poison