I find myself caught in the gaze these days,
with nothing to say.
My reaction might be distress,
my only goal is to see,
to have some kind of validity…
I am here.
But you see what you want to see,
like a sentence once spoken.
I am only the punctuation,
probably the ellipses,
caught between how I feel,
and the base survival instinct.
To pass, I must go along with you.
Perhaps the world is not fucked up,
perhaps it’s been me all along.
Dreams and nightmares of what could be
if I were different, but there is no depression.
I keep moving, hung on the edge,
waiting, to see what you might do next,
to record it for you.
You might never know.
I am waiting for something to happen,
beyond my reactions and my
knee-jerk responsiveness. I wait
to see what comes next, but
I am not idealistic anymore.
“I told you so”,
ringing in my head,
every wish I blew into a candle,
on a star overhead,
on a coin in the well,
fodder for come what may.