Just Saying
Hey poor boy from the far 80s
Was it 16 or 17 when you got stuck?
You dug a hole so deep and fell in it.
Agreed it was warm , protective
except that your whole adulthood was blocked .
You had your chances , you had your talents
you let them rot .
And now you ride on that red flying horse
among young bloods
too much smoke , too much old bones.
Some evil child once told me , he took you to the crazy house
and he felt your use of erotic images was overboard.
He laughed at you , but I didn’t
because only a monster would celebrate any pain coming from the guts of a friend .
Shame I said nothing ,
but again like you would say :
-it wasn’t my business but your mistake .
And now you walk on flimsy panels of concrete
and now you stalk and now you cuss.
And now you talk about little girls
that ate too much candy ,
you call them sad because you get it .
You see, I know you ate all that candy too,
but instead of reaching for the light
you dug that hole and paralyzed your soul .
And that is how , I find myself
relentlessly entangled in your monologue .
There is no shame in cutting heads
of bratty player boys .
What killed the cat was not curiosity
but hateful words .
And from those I gave them none .
So dear poor boy from the far 80s ,
become a man , untie your soul ,
Happiness , sadness, that is your choice.
My incantation: I wish you gone .
Never pick fights with a survivor,
in life , only one time the heart is broken
and after that , the flesh gets rough
and we start over .
there are no schemes
but only freedom to love again , to fail again , to celebrate the everlasting beauty of not giving a damn anymore.
Copyright © Camila Encarnacion | Year Posted 2022
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