I sought control of happiness, over at the piers by the river of life, all I found was a loneliness, tinged with uncertainty and a handful of strife. I gave up my perceptions of what it all should be, thought it would keep the confusion at bay, for a moment I thought I was happier, but then the fleeting bird of happiness went away.
You know, no one ever tells you
that losing control is hard work,
It’s not something you can just do
Because the results can be catastrophic.
Losing control takes a certain skill
To know when it’s okay to let go
Without fucking up your entire life.
But see, that’s not really losing control
When you premeditate WHEN to lose it.
My sister always tells me to loosen up, live a little,
To loosen the bridle once in a while.
To her I ask:
Woman, when is this ‘while’ you speak of?
And where can I find it?
If I find it and don’t stumble across it,
Does it still count as letting go?
Since I went seeking for it?
Does going ape shit count as losing control?
WHAT IS ‘LOSING CONTROL’?!
Like I said losing control is hard work,
(Partially probably because I don’t know what it MEANS exactly)
Even my self control, which has been putting in 24 hours a day
Everyday- religiously, thinks so.
What they don’t tell you about the process of metamorphosis is that it is never easy , you’re constantly trying to break out of your cage all the while trying to stay safely tucked in it. From the mother’s womb and beyond, we are in a constant state of trying to break free and become humans. Granted, some do a better job than others (although how do we determine the quality of someone’s humanity when it opens up the can of worms aptly titled objective versus subjective ‘facts’), we all partake that journey- hopping from one cocoon to the next until we reach our graves, back to the womb of the Mother (Earth). Metamorphosis of the physical is irrelevant as we are born from a womb and at the end of the days we are returned to another- that of the planet. It is the metamorphosis of the mind that profoundly changes: from the moment we take our first breath of air to the moment we take our last. The cages we live in are within our own minds and to get out of them is never easy.
Wise eyes mean nothing
If in a moment your immaturity shines through.
You talk a great talk and walk a great walk
But bring you something serious
And there lies the panic, painfully plain,
All the polish in the world can’t hide the inner kid.
But still you try,
You polish your face, Till it shines,
You polish your brain, Till it smarts.
You polish your feelings, Till they numb.
But they don’t numb,
They brood under the surface
Waiting for that first crack
In the polish surface
Through which to seep.
And you know what?
Fucking let it,
Let your face be myriad of emotions
Your brain a jumble of nerves
You feelings an emotional conduit
Polish is overrated
And the wise eyes
Are wise cause they see
Behind every polished facade
Is a shit storm you can’t wait to meet.
Pounding a rhythm
on my rib cage.
Like a drug,
For a way out
A way out
From the cage
Made of bones.
There’s a room full of people
But I am stuck on you.
And I get it.
I get how you feel now,
Like you’re sorry that you don’t care
But you don’t.
I watch you and I get mad
For not looking away
For still caring.
And I can’t hate you
Because I get it.
I get the feeling of wanting to care
But not caring, the same way.
Such a stupid game we play
Him stuck on me,
Me stuck on you,
You stuck on her
And she stuck on he.
None of us care
But I get it
And wonder for how much longer
Will I be stuck on you.
We are puzzle pieces
That don’t belong together
But I keep pushing
But I keep losing.
Of trying to put
A circle into a square?
That’s what it
Like I am on the
For trying to do this.
There’s no real reason
For me to keep you.
But it’s like my pride
Has made it
My world would be better
If I stop with you.
But I keep playing
I keep saying,
There is something.
When there is nothing.
You aren’t my puzzle piece.