3rd Person

I watch with baited breath.
I stare from one side of the screen.
With no chance to intervene.
My thoughts may transpire to action on occasion.
However, I often think the reverse order is most true.
First the move,
Then mental gymnastics to justify what ever I must do.

Passing Lane

This is a constant blur.
The rush is indistinguishable from the rest.
No distinct lines separate yours from mine.
All things have come to pass and there they stay.
The horizon is an imaginary line.
Drawn on a contiguous landscape.
I exist in the past.
Too slow to keep up.
To lazy to exceed the speed limit.

Eh too

I have never felt this much anguish.
But you would no nothing of these things.
No so much for lack of trying,
Just a shortcoming of experience.
With all the faults you seem to lack,
Your weakness is just that.
Little more than a crack in the veneer
And you are breaking.

Regardless

I am looking for something.
A relief from this.
A dream from which I never wake.
I stake my life on it's arrival.
But still I wait, just the same.
I am slated for release.
In two, maybe three days time.
But the point at which the clock is started remains,
A mystery to those that watch,
Those that count,
Those that set the pain and feelings on a shelf.
The day will come when I can rest.
The time will come when I can breath.
The day will come when I can feel at peace with myself.

But that day is not today.

forked tongue

A certain charm to the cunning.
Manifest in plastic wrapped, frozen breasts.
All "head and shoulders"
Known to take a ride astride falling boulders
I wince with wisdom of an outcome
And I am wrong.
Words can get you only so far.
Then the mouth must achieve a different precipice.
Perchance the willingness can break free the cellophane.
 

Accept this invite

So little effort.
So short the step.
It is difficult to discern if it is proper in direction.
So meager the attempt.
A glint of work and it is all "Toe-to-heel"
Yet, I am required to recognize the thought.
In a world where that is all that counts.
If I want anything I better count my lucky stars for that ounce.
It's a pair of black and barely there.
A quick costume change and then the shapes remain.
A pose that will not break,
Nor bend,
Nor embrace willingly the calloused hand of forward planning.

Genetic Test

I think I am a part of you
The denied offspring may be me
This may be mine
But we deny
The truth in eyes
Will lie

Structure

We fall in to this
Form
I am a node
Depending on the architect
Language is conforming
And I debate what an object is
The sound that interrupts my modernism
Determines how I represent
An object.
What category do I fall into

The label of purpose

I want you to do this
Yet you make your own choice
I want you to be
What I want you to be.
You will be what you are
Regardless
Of what I want
Regardless
This language has conceived
what I interpret you to be
Regardless of my intentions for you
chaos determines
chaos is the only determiner
It is nothing and everything
as are you.

Am I?

I am not here
I am not there
My view of what "is" is not
My thought of what may be will not be
Am I real?
Am I false?
How am I not Myself?
I built this view of what I am
So you can know what I want you to think I am
This person is a visage of what I am
This person is only hat I am willing to show you.

foolish

Without doubt
I follow this line
Without choice
I determine what is and what is not
but my bias is unbiased
My choice
Is to not choose
I fall short of the choice
The gaps define me
The gaps are my teeth
"I" am beneath me