Peering Out

Mind is ramblin. Fingertips panickin, stammerin on ink blots, trippin over the deep spots, and fallin off banisters.

Heavy landing. Signals scrambling, is this happening? Oh here’s lack again. Hey mama.

I’m sorry. That your mission for me got busted like Pamela Anderson’s fitted, you always put a bow on my problems, told me I was so gifted, I believed that and kept it ter- never knew what I was missin. Wanted to be my own man, not just next in the sequence, but I didn’t know the difference. I am where I am cuz I only looked for one part of God- that’s why I all got were zeroes.

I can be a hero. Cape flap with a snap back. Arm crease for my darling, therapist for my relapse. I immediately start performing on the set of my setbacks. I dap my dreams, but they don’t wave back, like a surfer on a flat sea, nothing’s moving, it’s getting dark now, I put my all in this but I can’t cash out!

Keep the deposit.

I’ll just stay here, locked in my closet.

Penning letters to Martians.

Violating my fandom, hoping for beam ups from Scottie.

I don’t even like Star Tr**.

###

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s