Funny eh!
How when you put yourself to sleep
like a baby, you sleep like a baby…
Home » Posts tagged 'fantasy'
Funny eh!
How when you put yourself to sleep
like a baby, you sleep like a baby…
the moon?
but a keyhole
to another room,
which awaits
our arrival—
whenever.
You can sense it you know,
yourself shutting down—again
with the change of scenery, again
with the change of heart.
It’s like trying to stop a freight train
running yourself empty, till
all there is is but to explode.
It’s a very empty place to be living.
It’s a very empty place to be born.
It’s a beautiful fall day, though, isn’t it?
Isn’t it beautiful, this
in depth exhibition of yourself—
without the guts, with all the answers
and nothing all that good say.
I’ve often wandered
through this life
marveling at
the wind blown trees
and buzzing humming bees
and usually does it seem
I’m falling aimlessly
on fantasies
but lately could it be
all this time
there was someone
day dreaming just like me?
I don’t want to be a burden
I just wanna sit here and read.
So if that’s ok
then the band can play
I’ll look up a couple times to see.
Everyone who’s silently cursing
checking out the latest feed.
There’s someone I knew
from another life
I look away so they don’t notice me.
It’s a living, a hard living
the barista says while pouring cream
a couple swirls and a twist
now there’s a swan swimming in my drink.
Guess I never really felt like drowning
I just swam in this misery.
I guess I can’t complain
I made my bed
skipped my prayers
now I’m counting sheep.
Guess I never really felt like dying
just romanticized how life could be
it’s like a game of chess
you protect the Queen
and die a King in your fantasy.
Cause it’s a living, a hard living
it could be worse is a common phrase
a couple riffs then applause
now the band packs their noise and leaves.
If I have to take a vow of silence
plead the fifth in double time.
With all due respect
I think I must confess
I cracked up like a nursery rhyme.
Still I can’t sing that song without crying
so whatever shall be shall be.
I guess the world’s the same
rinse repeat complain
the punch line never hit with me.
So if you’re living, a hard living
here’s raising this glass to you
and if you’re worried, don’t worry
there’s bound to be an answer soon.
Cause baby I don’t wanna be a burden
I just want to write my poetry.
Because I’m not a rock
or an island but
ain’t that the only way to be free.
I try to hang loose
but always end up
twisted, like a
damp dish towel.
Stained and tattered.
Are we really back here again?
Rinse and repeat.
Haven’t you learned anything yet?
Rinse and repeat.
I bet you like it this way, don’t you?
It’s quieter here…shh!
With voices in your head? You’re too easy.
It’s alright if you sweat, just
don’t let them see you turn.
Are we really back here again?
Metaphorically speaking,
we never actually left.
Places just become new places.
People get replaced by other people.
Lies become fiction.
Truth becomes fantasy.
Like a damp dish towel,
twisting facts
until
they hang loose.