November 12, 2009
Normal, IL
I’ve been a lot of things
I’ve pretended to do a lot too
I’ve taken notes
And maybe tried to be a leader
I’ve been a drunk
A swear word expert
A wannabe poet with
Little to no subject
Besides regret and love
And a little bit of peace
I’ve taken pieces of myself
And taped them onto dorm walls
And tried to make it home
Again
I’ve put on the face of caretaker
And tried nursing my roommate
Back to safe
I’ve been the stumble bum
Falling down stairs to
Make it seem like I was just as cool
As everyone else
I’ve saved face a few times too
By masking myself
To be someone else
Like the time I told everyone I was a swimmer
So many times that I believed it
Even though my pet snails could beat me
I’ve been a wanderer
I still am
I’ve seen more coast than I’ve seen home
I’ve made more nonfriends than real ones
But I always make it a point to tell them
I miss them
‘cause I’ve been unloved
And I know how important it makes me feel
To know that someone I don’t
Quite remember misses me
I haven’t unpacked since I came here
I’ve lived out of suitcases for so long
I can’t really remember what
Dresser drawers are for
I’ve changed my number so many times
My friends just know it’s easier
To leave a comment on my facebook page
Than to track me down to hear my voice
I haven’t spoken for myself
In so long I forgot what it is to be
And I haven’t been…
I haven’t been loving
Or genuinely kind
Or remembering to let you know
That I still see that beacon
And I still love the shore
And I still long to see your face
And let my face hit the sun
I’ve been so many things
And I’ve lived in so many homes
That I paid for, but they weren’t mine
I’m that recluse that you never hope for
I sit in my room and pretend that
I’m getting things done
When the only thing I’m doing
Is trying to teach myself how to speak
How to shout out
How to live on nothing
And believe in everything
I’m still hoping that I’ll meet someone
Who’ll tell me that it’s ok to feel lonely
When you’re surrounded by people
And that my search for poetics
Isn’t a vain attempt to announce myself
And that my quest for true art
Isn’t an excuse to close myself away
I’ve been a prayersayer
And I miss taking my thoughts to someone else
And leaving them there
And I miss that silence, that knowing silence
When the prayer is done
And it may not be delivered
But it’s no longer mine
I’ve been mine and no one else’s
And selfish
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