the planet is dying
and you’re talking about manecures and pedicures
and brand new furnitures
apartments with nice views, tapestries with the right hews
the colour above you is fading into an obsolete grey
but all you can see is the blackened white in your day-to-day
you’re a…night cap’s dunce-cap
on the walking beam…
when the ones on your team turn out to be the enemy
what army will you call on to protect your head and neck?
no one who you thought was nice will ever be as kind as you once hoped they would be
could it be - that everything you knew is nothing but what the TV told you to?
at the risk of sounding like a talking head, ask yourself how many times you checked your own mental health
before the Kardashians, or any other in a short-list of pseudo-sex symbols—
literature for the illiterate
poetry for the unemotional
progress in stop-motion…
while we stupidly solidify our place from behind this keyboard
dreaming of Park Place while we sit comfortably in the Baltics
there’s a staircase to climb and we sit, stuck in the basement
welcome to divinity
when will we be noticed for our efforts
when will all of our time spent, expending ourselves and seeing no compensation
(not a cent)
make sense?
when will we give up on everything we pretend we cannot be
when will God finally reveal my destiny?
will he email it, or send it more directly?
because all of this third-party communication is the bane of my perspiration
for every time i want to write a word
or sing a song, or
fall back into my peace with someone to hold on
to
i realize i’m too busy to find a minute
too distracted to feel an instant
too spiteful to chase inspiration
too realistic to be a dreamer
too fearful to be a believer
the lonely island surrounds me and i surround it,
with my false praise.
i love it like it loves me -
not much.
new york is killing my spirit, my spirit, and my mind too.
