Tuesday, December 27, 2011

What It's Not

Can't afford to lose anymore
what's it gonna take
can't afford to bruise anymore
are you gonna break
apart, this time
when it doesn't rhyme...

Don't want to repress anymore
want to wear the dress anymore
part; you better play
when it's not ok
to be yourself
not acceptable
sit on the shelf

like the doll, that you are
look at her, so pretty too
why? she bats her eyes at you
don't you want to hear her coo?




She's a lovely little thing
so it'd be a shock to see
her act the way she be
almost like a boy, frankly

Tired of this tone of voice
in which you gotta sing
tired of this charming way
that you can sweetly bring
tired of not knowing what to say
unless it rings

Memory is running
constantly and constantly
no one would believe
that what you say feels like a scene
for you act it so well
secretly; lost in the meaning...

You can never visit
unless you know they're coming
wanting to connect
but don't know how unlike a kid
have to prepare what you'd say
by how you know they did

Sometimes you're a great host
you intrigue your guest with style
but you're left exhausted
wanting alone time for awhile


Processing and cycling
the meaning of the words you'd said
which seemed endearing at the time
but now, won't leave your head

There's always things you want to say
but then forget about
you get stuck on just one thing
and that's all that keeps coming out

You wonder, after one leaves
were you nothing but boring?
you scold yourself over making an
impression of annoying...

They, and yourself, hold it to you
what has produced your un-faulted faults
it, logically, feels convoluted
forgetting about gestalt

So where is the slack cut
in this neurological challenge
appearing as what it's not
when emotions; it takes revenge


December 27th, 2011

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