Growing Up

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,

a pause,

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.


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