Fabrication
"How Do I Feel Today"
written out of depravity of sleep, of self assurance of happiness
written out of love and vulnerability
I was so sure, aware; I had a plan!
but as the case with all my well made plans
they're crumbled pieces of paper lost in the trash
though it's me
I'm the one who feels lost, lost in the trash
Just last week, was it only a week
since I've tried to deny my genetic composure
as a pessimist, declare my love for an optimist
while notifying, stating my heart is in cahoots with another
who may know how I feel
I asked once why couldn't I be a paper plane
perfectly sculpted and flying free
last weeks, I was that very place
staying in the air, holding on to the wind in my hair
but on Sunday, waiting for an answer
Sunday, I found my answer
as a sword of silence caught me in my descent
to say my love was a fabrication
my experience was a dream never to be seen again
without a memento to know it was real
What hurts more, more than any lie
there's been no voice to reason, no one to give explanation!
only empty silence I'm far too acquainted with
So I fill the silence with the strongest option
to hate Sundays, hate this song, and boycott love
since it's always Sundays
Sundays' what it takes to prove
I have something else to lose and this time I've lost sleep
I've lost the means of any kind of relief
Nothing I do rids me of the poisoned storm running amuck
on the inside
I'm not in junior high anymore
it's the first truth I muttered to myself today
but that very fact is another mark
upon the list of why I should implode, a supernova
spontaneously combust, explode
burst into flames, a volcano on the sun
My life began at 12, ended at 13
while the other 19 years and 3 months
I was in a fog that gave birth to a tornado
for I was without parents unless you call an 8 hour facility
plus added daycares as extended guardians
I was without siblings
only sparring partners and strangers I never see
I've had no friends, just fickle masses of acquaintances
who barely even remember my name
One year I lived, one year!
and at the oblivious conclusion
all is still baffled why I'm suddenly angry, enraged
a child in size 14 shoes, a child in adult clothing
because I lose myself in all colors and audio
to leave behind the louder thought
one more year I exist in misery
will be the one less year I can hold back
hold down these suicidal tendencies
Memories provide not comfort nor refuge
as I slip through the trauma made cracks
of my glass half empty
reciting sighs, words of confliction
and a prescription of my own demise
I'm not in junior high anymore
and all I can do is look at the sky
like somehow my answers have floated up there
but instead I'm only tempted
to shout words of profanity, curse whoever is listening
while stomping the Earth's crust so whoever is tormenting me
may disappear from my presence, part from me like the sea
leaving me be
but I rest in a chair, confessing my deepest emotions
a portable church confessional
like what ails me will lift from my shoulders
when I know as I stand
I'll feel the sting of the world crashing down around me
I beg of you
someone aid me, I can't do this alone
yet who am I shouting to
no one cares to hear my despair
but it's my ears they grace with theirs
and I only have a pencil plus fading paper
no one will bother to read to know anything!
though it's others whose voice rang softer than mine
whose had the chance to be heard by the world
while I struggle to even get my own mother to hear me out!
So I run, am running to an island of rain
to live again, to be happy again
to find my faith in life, in love again
a reintroduction to a life I want but don't have
so I run, am running to an island of rainfall
a haven to escape the memories killing me
I'm not in junior high anymore
and with it every ounce of happiness I once had
buried in a time capsule without mementos to say it was real
left in a house I can hardly remember
I hate this, I hate this; how has no one realized
I've created and cling to a world of magic, illusions, fantasy
because my real life is tragic
I cling to a world of fairytales, the impossible
told by foreign people in a foreign place
in a foreign language I can't understand
yet somehow they understand me
whereas my familiarities only see me
as a stranger, a statistic, a color instead of unraveling me
a ball of yarn to see see what lies beneath
I'm not in junior high anymore
but this can't be how the world is
what proof do I have though besides movie references
where things are better yet aren't they only fabrications
in a world too ordinary
This was supposed to be my year and tomorrow is my birthday
while today feels like Christmas Eve
but I've never had a birthday nor Christmas I wished for
I've had a "19 Midlife Crisis" and I believe this might be 20
all because I had the audacity to challenge my anatomy
for a love I can't obtain
not today, not tomorrow, maybe soon
I'm not in junior high anymore, only in reality I remain
under sweet suffocation from the nightmares I jolt awake
afraid they might become real
I'm not in junior high anymore
but let the curtain fall, blue for calmness
belting out one last request as it drops
BREAK ME OUT OF THIS!!!
break me out...
as I bleed the story of....
Me...
Copyright © Andrus Cassian | Year Posted 2016
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