I Like Looking Like A Boy

I like looking like a boy.
Those massive locks
That locked in looks
From boys and men –
Well, that was then
And now is now.

I’ve thrown out needs
And taken in
Convenience, suitability
Which looks as nice - e’en twice as nice
To those bystanders’ gawking shoulders
(Appeal’s molder in the eyes
Of the beholder),

Now it’s time for short and neat,
Just as cute
When coexisting with a sweet,
Kind, loving nature;
Character,
Persona’s self charisma
Which as hypnotic, gives off honey’s own melisma,
Charm’s attraction which,
If used correctly
Does more good
Than all the ringlets ever could.
a group of notes sung to one syllable of text.

I Like Looking Like A Boy 11.24.2016
Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Wrinkles; Circling Round Vanities II;Circling Round Woman II;
Arlene Corwin

home isn't where you are it's who you're with and did

I remember relapsing on the floor of my mothers basement.
I still remember what it was like to feel my conscious
leave my body and
float into a complete world of
darkness.
There were no pretty patterns or
surreal hallucinations.
The bright light that everyone
spoke of
was not there
and I wondered
if I was to blame for it
being gone.

And at the same time,

I remember what it was like to wake up.
To see my mother, father,
brothers, sisters
and friends
standing over me.
Crying helplessly wondering if I would
ever be the same again.

I remember what it was like to look into their eyes.

And I remember what it was like to push every single one of them away.

I remember what it was like to argue and walk out on
the same people that said they would
always be there.

I remember because it was the only time in my life that I
truly didn’t care.

But here I am today.

Trying to find the words to make you believe
that I am a better man.

Here I am,
pulling truths from parts of me
that I have not visited in years.

But being transparent does not
******* me like it used to.

It motivates me more than
ever before.

This shaky,
raspy,
unattractive voice of mine
is all I have.

And by any means,

I am going to use it.

There’s only a few other things
I was put here to do.

And if speaking
even when I’m not
spoken to
somehow
saves my life,

then so be it.

Because I remember
what it was like to
keep everything bottled up
and how it got me
absolutely nowhere.

I remember being stepped on
and squashed
as if I did not matter.

I remember what it was like to have
no faith in myself
because that was what everybody
taught me to believe in.

That it was wrong to step out of line
if it meant losing friends or
loved ones.

And I believed them because I didn’t know
anything different.

I didn’t have any independence.
I didn’t have anything to stand for.
I was just a little kid,
four-foot-something,
trying to make it through
another day.

And for every night I prayed
for tomorrow not to come
to a God that I do not believe in,

it always came.

And even though this embodiment
of doubt,
that is my existence,
has never been a breeze-

I can only hope that it has been
worth fighting for.

That every day and every night
I spent hungover or
strung out on the floor
did not go in vain.

And all I can do now is work hard
every single day.

All I can do now is give every ounce
of energy that I have to
making a difference
on people that are going through
what I’ve been through;

to give someone a voice that is
comfortable and
familiar.

and despite the cliché,
maybe even some hope.

Because I remember what it was like
to figure it out

all on my own.

What is your reality really?
Is it the clarity of familiar things,
A toast to the success of monetary
Accomplishments that weigh
Just as much as the opinions
Put into them?
   What makes a rich man so rich?
Possession or the value one or all
Put into said possession?
   Is a billion dollars more valuable to
One person than the love one has
For their child? Or is it possible that
We have been taught to value money
As survival in a chasing of the tail?
   I was was told that is just the world
We live in, that that's just the way
Things are, yet the very fundamental
Being of humanity is to change,
The struggle for it and the ability
To do so.
    Yet here we are, chasing tails
So to speak, and the very concept
Of " living a better life" has become
The mantra for the struggle.
   The struggle is within ourselves,
The fact that we are living as a species
On a doomed path, regardless of belief
Or faith, that the end is inevitable,
That we must live a life together
Yet the very success one has
Is set up to be solitary,
It has no bearing on thy neighbor
Because one gathers success towards
Themselves and their circles.
  Is this a preaching?
No, it is the truth we live in,
That we see, that we cannot change.
Why can't we change our selves,
Our greed, our hunger, our animalistic
Nature that has only become sophisticated
In brutality and not shed like history?
   Because we need struggle.
The truth is the suffering in which
We live everyday is delivered by ourselves.
   We have accepted the experience,
That " higher" learning is the route,
And we chase tails.
   What is real then?
Well, that is your perception,
That which your heart tells you is real,
Your reality as a poet takes you
Outside of yourself,
   That lets you see the sad truth of our
Species, and yes, our doomed nature.
   Live die repeat.
Is this a sad rant of a depressed insomniac
With too much time on bis hands?
Yes.
Does it make it any less true?
No....
Why state this if I'm not doing anything
About it.
If you have read this in its entirety
Then I have.
Wake up,
Your world is what you make it,
Not how you take it,
Live free of circles.