I understand the restless feeling
within your soul. Impossible to ignore
especially in a still night where devils
you expect to turn up lose their
way.
Alone in a still night you scream
out for help but intentionally forget to
turn up the volume from zero to a
measly one, because you prefer the
agony of pain to the dreadful
pretentious care you suspect in
caring eyes.
I understand you when you, in your own
words, alleged that both right
and left turns connive with time to
bring you back to your starting point,
that you wish you could turn up, fly,
and leave everything behind without
having to explain why
or how you did it
And I completely understand the fury
beneath your smile in those still kind
of nights when unwanted attention is
turned towards you,
being civil thus gentle
and cordial, you are demanded, for
goodness sake, to indulge friends
and family. so you take a deep
cigarette-filled breath, summon
strength from deep within, laugh
and simply turn up