I've got this dream
Where I'm prepping for a presentation
And I'm ready
I am so prepared
I wrote out note cards but I don't need them
I've printed out my visual aides days in advance

But when I go to pin them to the wall
They shrink
I pull the corners out like kneading dough
But they recoil
Over and over

I try to explain myself to the faceless critic
But they've already marked a large "X" on their secretive clip board
My poster shrinks to nothing and I wish I could

I wake in a cold sweat

And from the abyss
of an un-owned, nothingness
rises up the majestic image--
supremely crafted,   from
well-smithed words;

this something..
formed  out of nothing--

this counterfeit  substance
this ancient, hide

this cowardly, self-formed answer
to the Universe's primal core question
this childish refusal to grow up..
to own up,
and face the music

This fooling of the whole world..
this glory  of the moment..

and then, one final  pirouette,
before your unavoidable death-scream
at that final  moment of truth..


Ah truth, baby.. what a concept.

It is through the pathological:
The presented image of the journey
as being that of the road, less traveled--
a foundation of sand,  presented
as being that of bedrock..
It is the ancient shortcut's  need
to prop up it's own deception
that is of that which harbors  the greatest judgement
        of all that is upright
and it is upon these agenda-ed, subjective pallettes
that the pastels are mixed and arranged,

as the landscape of the world's reality
becomes,  painted.

I failed yesterday.
But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause I fail everyday.
When I ***** up a presentation.
It brings about a new sensation.
One of hatred and self-doubt.

My brain’s suffering a drought.
A lack of motivation.
Little information. Too many interpretations.
How can I function when I can’t think straight?
Too many variables. The consequences too great.

That’s why I do nothing.
Instead of presenting, I’m running.
Far, far away from everyone.
To a place where there’s no one. Anyone.
But me and my mind.

I’ve let people down.
My family, my friends. Their faces have frowns.
I’m such a *****-up. I want to disappear.
I’m just tired of all these stupid fears.
I turn around. Try to go back. But I hit a wall.
Instead of improving, I fall.
Back into old habits.
It’s like playing a game. Playing gambits.

I stand up there. On stage.
My heart is pounding. An internal rage.
Thoughts are swirling inside my head.
All I want now is to go to bed.
No, no! I won’t accept defeat.
I’ve come too far just to fall and taste concrete.
So, even if it’s terrible, even if nobody hears me.
I’m going to try, and that’s what it’s gonna be.
‘Cause I think in the end, trying something will be my savior.
Instead of simply relapsing into failure.

I have been invisible before.
My thoughts and justifications were transparent.
All anyone could see were my actions;
the way I failed and stumbled,
and ran head first into doors that lead me down path after path of distraction.
At least they seemed like distractions,  
oh, but they become my destruction. 


I spent my time quietly imploding,
only to change my mind last minute,
and suddenly explode.
I changed my mind,
but my body stayed stock still.
I stood in front of the judges
and while my tongue was granite,
the urge to run from the podium had never been greater.

I wished to be invisible.
I wished to go to a dark corner of the room and finish my implosion.
Out of sight,
where I could hide and self destruct without a sound.

And then if,
or when,
I picked up the shrapnel,
I could re-join everyone on stage at graduation.

I could hold my head high
and with a smile,
pretend no one saw me crumble.

‘Smile is infectious’?
Said the first slide.
?By the twenty-fourth, realized
Yawn is infectious too.