Am i too fickel to fit?
my mind like my eyes dart stupid
from one place to the next.
Bored with what is "in", tired of what they see
with what i receive.
No energy have i to unfold and to look deep,
to disect my world.
I must know how full it is,
how it over flows from one ending to the next beginning
I must see, hear, touch life that surrounds me,
that inhales and exhales so visibly.
It needs discussion, it needen't be mistreated.
But alas, i am lazy.
I am easily distracted by what's true and my lies...
always hungry, or behind.
I bite permaturely, tasting the bitter and disappointing,
lick the stuff that breaks my heart along with the thriling.
I have laughed a baby's laugh,
and once felt innocence course raging spirits in my being.
Giggled hicups and wept joy, it hasn't been enough.
Should i share with them that?
Fill my words with effervescence and pink?
But alas, i am too dime.
I have not the phrases and the skill,
cannot capture its exactness,
so i will not burn in the exposure.
Maybe i should relate then the darkness through and through,
recall in a tete-a-tete
my misfortunes
and flowing red?
Prehaps the dark is easier then the light,
easier to explain,
using harsh lyrics and course language in vain.
Everyone loves a tragic tale...we real in misery.
But mon-deau i haven't the courage.
i shall shrivel away as they approach
recoil at a whisper and release all my strength
who then claims it?
Do i fit?