I am your spectacle.
You gather, an audience amongst you,
ready for this weeks show.

Your words are sharp,
as you mock my fears to entertain the masses.

I am a fool,
for both showing up as well as "preforming"
a sold out show.

Paint me out to be a monster,
for the audience has never had the pleasure to think anything else.
Ensure your holy actions are spoken for,
as i spend another night sleeping among promises that were as transparent as your gracious invitation.

I am jolted awake.
Sweaty and confused, the truth of my world sets in.

My nightmares have become my reality,
and i'm ashamed to admit i was awoken crying your name.

Not even metaphorically, I legitimately cried myself awake.
I was not aware it was possible for sadness to transcend through your dreams in such a way, and i'm forced to let the wave pass the best i can.
I have never woken up with the confirmation that you
truly are gone,
and i mean nothing to you.

My dreams are now strictly you fulfilled by the world and others,
meeting new people to replace me,
while i scream your name into nothingness.

mehh
come back please

Get a move on,
times a tickin.

No room for pauperism,
thoughts much more valuable than
minuscule discomforts.

My hands are full darlin,
much to do,
a quarrel with ya don't compare to potential melodies unsung.

So get a move on and pull yourself together,
trail behind and we’ll sail to spite the weather.