The Pain of The Prototype

It’s a tough thing realizing that one’s place is out of place…

In the space between spaces…

The breath between the tick and the tock…

That one’s life is not bound up in the heartbeat…

But in those pauses in between where the heartbeat – stops.

The best way to “fit in” is to realize that you don’t…

The best way “be cool” is to realize that you’re not…

Shed these idol garments, and reveal the true skin…

Show em loud and clear your Ralph Emerson – your invisible man.

When they invite you – know they are addressing your externals…

When they compliment you – know they mean whatever it is you did…

You see because they don’t actually see you, and like words in a journal

They care less about your life, and more how they can benefit…

It’s certainly not easy…

Heh.  In fact – it’s kinda hard.

Being the thorny rose among daffodils…

The black licorice among red vines…

The rain drop amidst the embers…

The Hercules amid the Divine…

Try and tell your story – see how far you get…

It’s not so much that they do not listen – moreso that they easily forget it.

Explain your thought processes… Elaborate on your fancies…

But your mind is a cornucopia of dis-joined concepts

That are logical inside but fade away when they pass the lips and leave…

What association does that which has never been have with that which is?

Relational.

What bond is there between the anomaly and the commonplace?

Revelation.

Nevertheless it is a burden comparable to that of Atlas…

I’d almost rather be a messenger than handle that task…

It’s a tough thing to realize that one’s place is out of place…

In the space between spaces…

The breath between the tick and the tock…

Never a completed choreography….

Merely overlooked like the dash in hip-hop…

 

 

 

 

 

~The Wordsmith

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