This is futile; insufferable. I don’t know the name of the game I play, or the prize for the winner, but I gamble nonetheless. I’m told that it is expected that I should feel this way. Times like these are life-changing, if not a reminder that life is fleeting – and watching the love of one to another – the awareness of what I have (or don’t have) is painful. I’ll wear my singledom proud, even if it’s faux. I try to keep in mind those embroiled in companionship may look upon it with envy, but again, am I making allowances for the way that I feel? And what is the worth that I can go out and dance with a stranger knowing that I could colour the truth, play a false identity, pretend that I’m someone else? For when the murk and dirt of the dancefloor is illuminated by the beginning of the day, the invisible becomes visible. I become vulnerable to a perception based on the hue in my eyes or the colour of my skin. I scold myself for having personality. There is a reason I stand behind this wall: dare that person see the blood in my veins! That the talk is generated from a mouth! Only a fool would allow them inside, but of course I open my doors and sing out to the night that it’s “free for all, come share it with me!” And to what virtues would they relate? This breed is a dying kind, an un-lasting kind… and how unkind could the world possibly be? Surely there’s someone out there who feels the same as me!?
Poor boy
how little you know
now
You call my name
without infliction
but awareness
would serve
you best
call me
The Minx
don’t call me
J___.
Life is fleeting. My twenty third draws near. I step timidly into the darkness. My vision blurred, untrusting of my instincts. Boldly, but without fear, I press my fingers into the void. Behind my eyes, the mechanical. I try to differentiate the dream from the day. Morning pallor. I notice the cracks and paint over the impurities. The wind assaults and carries the sun on its torrent. Gray lingers in the cool, casting the evil twin. I ponder this life; the beauty, the mercy. I question existence. I question decay. I wander into hypocricies, and fight myself for the answer. Listless until then, when the burden was inflicted. I know now.
Life is fleeting.