Where have you been?
I lie on the concrete
with my telephone beside
my stretched right arm
waiting for a ring.
I wait and wait
I later kneel and pray
that God will be forgiving
of this decision that isn't
really mine.
Walk into a wildfire and
let it burn me to
ashes.
Stand in the middle of
the rotary and jump in
at the perfect second.
Walk to the top of the
biggest skyscraper and
jump.
Where have you been?
What if I actually did that?
Even if you don't want me
anymore wouldn't you
want to know if I
were really
Gone?
How am I supposed to know
if not one of you gives me a call?
I look at the phone on the mini table.
It's not
plugged
in.
Thanks for
unplugging me from
the crew.
Don't worry,
I have many outlets.
This poem being
one.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
Where have you been?
I lie on the concrete
with my telephone beside
my stretched right arm
waiting for a ring.
I wait and wait
I later kneel and pray
that God will be forgiving
of this decision that isn't
really mine.
Walk into a wildfire and
let it burn me to
ashes.
Stand in the middle of
the rotary and jump in
at the perfect second.
Walk to the top of the
biggest skyscraper and
jump.
Where have you been?
What if I actually did that?
Even if you don't want me
anymore wouldn't you
want to know if I
were really
Gone?
How am I supposed to know
if not one of you gives me a call?
I look at the phone on the mini table.
It's not
plugged
in.
Thanks for
unplugging me from
the crew.
Don't worry,
I have many outlets.
This poem being
one.
