waiting at the lost and found

words wander

the sender believed in direction

said them for my own protection

unable to fathom

how unaffected i was

 

there is no because

if it is one thing or if it is another

it just doesn’t matter

chatter, chatter, chatter

 

i need wilson and an island

i will never attempt to leave

 

arms encircle and my muscles tense

and i want to go lift more weights

so i can be strong enough to break your grip

 

i am ill equipped

for your ego trip

only the death of christ could tear the veil

that separated the common from the celestial  

 

and the things you tell me that are true

for which i must sign up and pay a due

i am not the actor who waits for his cue

 

i burn your script

to keep me warm

it’s cold here at the lost and found

my compass spins round and round

because no one is coming

to the island of lost toys

to finally give a defective creation a purpose

 

people draw lines

fight battles

make a stand

and are honored for their convictions

while i conjugate contradictions

 

the weight of the world is not on my shoulders

i am neither younger or older

your truth is not the thread

that stitches one proverb

for all that needs to be said

 

i am neither right or wrong

you are neither wrong or right

there just is and then there isn’t

 

wouldn’t it be easier to let me be

then earning eternal life by an

effort to set me free?

 

“make my reality more real believe what i believe

does my proselytizing reveal the doubts redoubt in me?”

 

the solution is simple,

“shut the fuck up!”

 

***