a lot of things can happen in 5 minutes.


5



‘where is he?’
in his room!
with his cat
his beloved cat

that cat that only hears him
and he only hears her
like notes playing continuously


4


‘where is he?’
in the garden
among the blossoms
his beloved blossoms

looking up
at the clouds
and looking down
at his flower crowns


3


‘where are you?’
up the tree!
the tree’s leaves look more green here
your beloved leaves

watching the birds
picking up their feathers
taking away their piece of freedom
away piece of their wisdom


2


‘where are you?’
walking on the street
smells smoky
you don’t like it here

kicking lost rocks,
you look at the horizon
now you remember
that you don’t want the life
you don’t want the cat
you don’t want the garden
you don’t want the tree
or the birds


1
‘where am i?’
looking down.
at the rushing water below the bridge
is this really necessary?

it is.
i know it is.
i cant find my feet touching the bridge
im flying now
maybe for a moment
im the bird



oh god, let me be the bird.

she plays her guitar
each note sending me a color
each note sending me a picture
a picture that she holds in her mind

its beautiful
never seen such grace
shes quiet,
only strumming the chords

after she ends, i only look at her
my gaze lovestruck.
and oh, she knows that

she knows shes worth it
but she cant put it on her head.
she sighs.
‘im starting over’

The curtains open once more
And I look into the eyes of the watching crowd
But even after my performance
I never once felt proud

Then I take a bow and walk off stage
I take off my mask, temporarily free
I see someone who I thought would compliment my performance
Yet he doesn't recognize me

I want to do anything else, be a teacher or a politician
But the next day, I'll walk back onto the stage
Everything in my body is telling me to stop
Yet I keep performing for no wage

I wish I was in the wings, like I was years ago
Pretending it was me in the burning spotlight
And I found my peace in the drowning shadows
Yet I wanted to be louder with all my might

When will this show finally end?
I walk on stage with despair I've so long felt
The spotlight causes my skin to burn and melt

The red curtains open fast
Will this time finally be the last?

I have seen those Golden Seas
And my name burned on someone's tongue
I locked myself out of life with my own keys
And I gasped for the toxic air in my poisoned lung

I must've forgotten who I was supposed to be
I hoped everything would be okay with a bit of luck
Then suddenly I was set free
And once more, I finally woke up.

Sick of my rotten filth.
Just rip it apart, let me bleed.
If you hate me, rip me open in distaste.
If you love me, rip me open to see.

A little blood every day,
As you sit with the blade in your hand,
Scribbles on your skin,
Crying to the bathroom walls.

The writing on my hands—
For all the things I had to get done—
Now smeared with blood.
Now, as I wash my hands, the writing fades—
Nothing’s getting done today.

There’s something about
Cutting deeper and deeper into the same wound,
And the bandage not holding what’s within.
I’ve told the wild stories
About how I got them—
“My cat scratched me.”

But if it means taking away my pain,
For just a few minutes,
I’d do anything.
Even if I have to do it all again tomorrow.