things that are not real:

- salami (never had/seen = not real)
- a place where someone belongs with no issues
- perfect parents
- yesterday, because every day is today
- the shadows in corners
- love without sacrifice
- blue raspberries (bc its blueberry and raspberry!)

things that ARE real:

- hearts
- the itchy feeling of sweater sleeves
- the sun the moon and the sky
- grass when you lie down in it
- the sound of rain when it hits the metal roof
- human connection
- pretty places i (and you) have never been
- orange juice
- me

this dance is the same one as before,
and before and before and before,
nothing new, the audience has long left,
bored.

still, even with empty rows,
empty seats,
im pulled along, god's perfect, tragic puppet,
ive memorised the moves,
i could do them on my own,
but never have i been released from the strings.

the song is sorrowful,
but it comes from my own mouth,
cracked tones, a bittersweet lament,
i cannot sing anymore. please don't make me sing again.

reset the stage. we start again.

any god that may exist falls just short,
grabbing tools to shatter me into smaller and smaller pieces,
until i sparkle like stars,
but hurt far worse than they ever could.

there is no meaningful way to express this suffering,
because it's all the same words,
the same lines,
that come up from everyone, every time.

does my suffering stand out enough to the audience yet?
or will i be on this lonely stage forever?

though brilliant, though beautiful
it's a true shame,
in the morning, you'll be swept away once more,
in the tides that wait for you.

the replacement was as good as any,
tiny cracks beneath clothing so pretty, hidden beneath frills.
she was enjoyed, and adored, and yet
still she was just that.
the replacement.

so the second the better one has returned to its shelf,
she who served as a backup was once again discarded,
because everybody has favourites, and she was never it.

the backup friend who's no longer needed takes a final bow.
the last choice takes a leap of faith into the arms of death, so tender.

it feels like i'm no longer alive
and
am just getting by
on the scraps of  something i don't quite understand
unsettling something settles
and suddenly

>> throw yourself out the window.
walk into traffic.
those containers in the mirror cabinet, take them all. <<

huh.

what you did is back then,
when the future was where i am now,
and the past is where i resided, and
anything in between then and now,
was enveloped in static.
because
after what you did,
i couldn't remember anything else,
and
the static between times
became static in my ears
and my brain.
and the static tells me ...
die, or suffer.
...
...
...
...
huh.