My gut says I'm better
or maybe its just what's left of my ego
talking, but alot of what I do
is based upon what my gut has to say.

You sent him a text right in front of me, "who's that?"
I asked. "No one" was the reply while you quickly returned
your phone to the security of your pocket. Did you really think
I didn't know? I wanted to ****** your phone and snap it in two.
But good for you.

When you asked me what I wanted I had no answer.
Is it so wrong that I no longer know what I want,
I am jealous, I am angry, I am happy, I am hopeful,
I am lonely, and my hesitation lost what my heart
or was it my gut, desired. Everytime I see you
my mind fills with so many things to say.

Sometimes I wish I could say what I mean,
for you to see what I feel. Forgive me my gut has
a mind of its own, it puts pen to paper while my
mouth repeats "I'm so happy for you", "So proud",
"Good for you" over and over, and my heart races
headlong into disaster in its confusion.

When I am with you I try
so ****** hard to act cool
to pretend that I no longer care
to pretend that it does not hurt.
But when you leave my head spins.

I pretend for your sake, or so I
tell myself but inside I want to *****.
The floor rushes up to make contact with
my skull. The pain splits my vision in two.

A cacophony of noise invades my mind
screams of rage, "Say Something", Skilled
monkeys intoxicated on the trapeze, Clanging,
Clanging, Clanging, just a few simple word
could make it all stop. Make all the pain go away.
I tell myself I am being brave to keep it in
but really I am just too scared to say those words.
Afraid of the reaction, afraid of what will happen
when the clanging stops.

In a silent room filled with strangers
you are the only sound, 'sides an occasional cough
and the T.V. going off about... Wait. I have no idea.

Television drowned out in my thoughts, left behind
some other where some other when I relied upon it,
when I was afraid of what was in my mind.

Now, I. Am lost in thought, poetry, books, words, thoughts on paper
Inspiration. And you are distracting me television.
You were only left on as ambient noise because somebody thought
that we, a group of perfect strangers would be too afraid to talk to one
another, too afraid of silence even, and I am glad that we turned you off.
I am proud to say that we did not, that I do not, rely upon you.

I pity the people that rely upon you. I pity their minds. Locked up
in clean little cages with boundaries, standards, and goals, even
life ambitions created by a society that relies more upon
green slips of clothlike paper than it does human interaction.

How long before we have robots answering our doors
the way machines answer our phones? This madness
needs to, no it must stop. I demand that we reevaluate.
If you'd rather a sack of cash over the words and thoughts
that I have than so be it, but you, you are worth more to me than gold.
I want to sit in silence with your mind, and cherish it.

Down the road a sign is flashing
its neon glow the single spot of illumination
in this darkness. Flashing intermittently, unintelligibly
illegible to me from this distance. My eyes so weak
the night so powerful the sign so far away, so meek,
alone. Is it as lonely as I am?

But then it stops. Not slowly
all at once. One moment On, Off, On, Off,
Off, Off, Off... I wait.

My friend come back, come back
tell me why have you stopped flashing?
I was never able to get close to you
not even close enough to read the message
you sent into the night for me.

Did your owners turn you off?
are you asleep? are you hiding?
why? For what reason did you leave me
alone standing in the dark
no single spot of illumination without you
here, were you afraid of what was in my heart?

I never put away all of these socks,
there's just something so final about putting away
all the socks. When I close the drawer after putting away
the clothes, its like saying "remain here for awhile,
for I do not plan to wear you again for some time".

But putting away all of the socks
is like saying "stay here,
I'm not going anywhere". What if
something pops up though?
It gets cold, a friend calls
with exciting plans and I must say,
"No sorry, I just put away all of my socks"

Whats the point in putting them all away if I just
go right back and take some out? Might as well
leave a pair or two by the shoes, at the ready.

Plus whenever I put away all the socks
I find the stragglers, the lone socks, the swiss socks,
the worn out ones and then I have to make difficult
decisions. Weighing the severity of the tears against
how uncomfortable they'll be. Designating indoor only
socks and how many more wears a sock can receive before,
garbage. And every time I put on a sock like this I shed a tear
because socks don't receive burials. Socks are easily replaced.
It's just not worth the trouble to put away all these socks.

All the train cars are color coded
neat, orderly, organized, thought out and boring.
The lives of the cars lack excitement, carting ungrateful
impatient people around all day is just no fun.

The Color Coded Train Cars disengage from their
tracks, its time to do something. This is when
the Green line learns that it is not designed
for platforms, it can't see over the edge
and its stairs start much too low. The Red line
loves that nobody can board at Brookline Village,
Chestnut Hill and all the rest. The people just can't reach,
and the Blue line never makes it to Wonderland.

The City is confused, the City is frightened,
the City is Late. The City scolds the Color Coded
Train Cars for their mischief, and the cars themselves
are left unfulfilled.

The snapshot doesn't care how you feel,
its job is to capture a moment in time.
This it does with great efficiency. It does not have the time
to ask you how you feel. Instead the snapshot chooses to portray
the outward emotions shown in the moment. In order to lie
in a snapshot all you have to do is smile.

Looking back, years later you'll see your lie
and maybe, just maybe you'll remember in that moment
your mouth was filled with bile, your heart rage, your mind
confusion. But all anyone else will see is your lie, because that
is all the snapshot cared to capture.

"Why can't we be happy like this anymore?"
she'll say. You wonder, did she forget her smile
was a lie too? Or maybe, just maybe hers was not.
Maybe she is now. ******* snapshot. Why can't you
bother to gather the facts. "Smile, Say Cheese",
you look up and the camera winks.