What now?
I ask,
I wait,
And time only passes when I move.
I can’t wait this out.
All I find now is decay
And the traces of those who moved on
While I waited
Supposedly, for them.
Why?
I can only guess,
But there could be a thousand reasons,
And I won’t know if you don’t
Tell me.
I would ask why,
But you probably think I should know.
No.
I can guess,
But blindly kicking answers around,
I’ll only find broken toes.
I gave up on walking years ago.
I once said I needed to know.
Now I say I need to disappear.
Perhaps the truth wasn’t pure enough,
But it only led me to more questions.
I’m too tired to think anymore.
I’m too tired to be anything.
I’m not really here.
How can anyone love me
When I’m playing dissolved?
Better question:
Who taught me to think I was playing?
There’s no crueler prison than considering everything,
For fear of missing something,
For fear of being held to task
Supposedly, for refusing the truth.
Self-doubt is the sickest poison.
Am I draining it out,
Or just burying it?
I feel sick,
But I seem clearer.
Emptier?
With all these words,
Clearly not.
