I am a projection,
An Idea through connection,
A physical perception.
Since inception,
Part of the Sources collection.
I can feel the attention,
The affection in my reality,
A reflection of its love for me.
I am able to see,
The character I came to be.
A heightened sensitivity,
Aware of how you feel.
You're not even real,
Just another gear in the wheel,
Stealing the show,
Until I know,
That's how it's supposed to go,
So I can grow into my shadow.
Though I can feel every moment,
I'm only a projection sent,
Into the firmament,
To experience many events,
Opening up my presence,
To remember my present.
I am rotting at your door
It's nothing you haven't seen before
I wish I could stand up and leave
It's a tapestry of tragedy I weave
I bring this unto myself
Put my emotions on a shelf
In a jar, they're there to rot
This all-consuming story plot
There is nothing I can do
I'm projected onto you
But if I try to end this scene
I'm afraid we won't reconvene
So I love you impossibly
And I'm stuck in frivolity
I love you so much it hurts
So I hope I stay in the dirt
I can't hurt you if I do
And you can't hurt me
I love you
I project myself a new one
depending upon who I am with
I can be a listener or an annoying interrupter.
I can be charming, or mean to the point of idiocy.
I project my persona ahead, testing the waters,
to see how much they can take,
to figure out what I can stand,
and what we can both tolerate
at this second
projecting is the only way
to arrive.
Snip-snaw lambasted me today.
Misunderstood initially,
Practically undiscovered
Until I remembered the stories of
Some others.
Zeke and Sam’s horrible, vivid scary
Stories of unkind deeds the snip-snaw had
Caused them to do, against their
Best judgement, immobilized me
To my bed for an extra hour,
Weighted blanket over my head.
Terrified burgundy hair stood up notoriously tall.
Goosebumps on my scalp,
I felt uncomfortably threatened, as I
Shook louder than a twenty-eight year old
Unbalanced washer on spin.
Yes, snip-snaw happened to me today,
I will speak of it no more,
But it was even more terrible and
Horrifyingly scary as I had ever
Had the audacity to believe.
projecting false
imagery upon
the screen of
time creating
an unrealistic
impression of
the supposed
good old days
was the misconstrued
dream land in which
the old self lived
Definitions strain contends defensively
no obligation of restraint ~ creativity
lures its object, beauty, to the mind
and leaves insipidness behind, behind!
Nor desecrate as if alone
reactions tempered my unknown,
insolvent only as to loan
does liquify its purpose own!
Then dissipates as if my prone
were self existing, ne'er by sown ~
To live my art, I must condone
needs deprivation . . . for my poem!
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