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The world is filled with people.
People filling space.
The only thing separating the people,
is hierarchy.
Other than that, there isn’t really that much else.
Just a world full of people.
People filling space.
All of them, vexed with smiles of uncertainty, trying not to fuck up.
It’s ironic, really.
The way I wanted to do it,
wasn’t the way to do it,
until it was the way to do it.
And by that time,
I was already checked out.
My psyche in jump cuts like Breathless.
Plugging away in the same…old…fashion,
as those before me.
My movements were those of a machine.
Until it was the way to do it.
That which once wasn’t the way to do it.
The way that I’d wanted to do it in the first place.
If you’re confused.
That’s good.
Because I was too.
When it occurred to me one day.
The irony.
How kings will be kings no matter the king.
Lucky for me,
I knew this.
I also knew this.
You can dress the kid in the rags of a jester, but don’t expect his tricks to be any good!
If you lay in bed long enough,
eventually,
you understand that there’s no reason to leave.
When you don’t have the answers,
for the way you’re feeling,
you understand that it’s better to give them what they want to hear.
After you’ve made a decision,
hastily,
that feels like anything but,
all that’s left is to wait for the consequence.
If you hide yourself away long enough,
eventually,
you understand that the calls will stop coming.
And even if you had the answers,
for the way you’re feeling,
you understand they wouldn’t even make a difference to the big picture.
After you’ve checked the mail,
twice a day,
for what feels like months,
all that’s left is to accept the denial letter, denying you back, from where you fled.
…
They don’t want you anymore.
They won’t trust you anymore.
Do they love you?
Or.
Are they just putting up with more of your bullshit?
They want you to succeed.
Remember when they said, “remember us when you’re famous!”
Did they ever realize the pressure?
Or.
Weren’t they just trying to inspire you to believe your own self-worth?
…
If you lay in bed long enough,
eventually,
you understand that it’s difficult to be anywhere but.
When you still don’t have the answers,
for giving up on the plan,
you understand that maybe it’s better to give them truth instead of lies.
After your insecurity turns to shame,
and fear is watered down,
a fire begins to burn,
and all that’s left to do is coax it.
If you hide yourself away long enough,
eventually,
you understand that it’s your turn to make the calls.
And while contemplating the answers,
for the way that you’re feeling,
you understand that the big picture doesn’t give a damn either way.
After your shame turns to curiosity,
and fear fizzles out,
a flame can turn to wildfire,
and all that’s left to do is decide.
Will you get out of bed?
Or will you fake this grave till you make it?
Nobody cares, really.
Nobody, except the one’s you love.
Despair comes for us all,
but,
it doesn’t have to – always – be the present constant,
in fact,
no matter how hard you try to make it seem…
This is life.
There is choice.
This is not a heads or tails game.
I hear the voice of a little girl.
Exterminator! Exterminator!
She’s maybe nine years old.
I answer the door.
She walks in holding a clipboard.
Her father follows.
He’s smiling.
He knows me.
We do this every second Saturday of the month.
“Please sign,” she says authoritatively.
Her father makes his rounds.
“Thank you,” she says.
I hand her a dollar.
She adds it to the clipboard.
Her father exits the kitchen.
“I no use near food…” he says with regard.
They leave.
Exterminator! Exterminator!
Y escribi este poema.
Words Of An Average White Male 