I look at the mirror and go —

— Wash away all that matcha
Off your unclean face, ugh, a disgrace
Make sure you don’t turn green with envy
Because heeeey you are not worth —

Anything else but what you’ve said
What you’ve done, what’s been done
Will you keep saying, doing, thinking it
Or leave it to the wild —

Woods and hoods and broken shoulda-
Coulda-wouldas that might’ve
Been actual standing buildings of
Meaning and structure and sense.

Sensibility is but a word to give
Meaning to why people jump or
Take the gun or stop breathing altogether
Must they stop living altogether?

Perhaps it is I who is off-key?
Off-kilter, off her rock’n roll
Around around I go, in circles and in corners —

Of mind-filled matters and mind-digging whatchamacallits
Everything must be simplified and powdered to bits
And dissolved in glasses of water-turned-wine
Such goes well with a steak, and so will you.

I am hungry for flesh and blood
But I do not act on it as an actor should
For I am no actor, I am no performer
I do not know the rules of the stage —

While the stage I am in wishes I would step down
The spotlight’s losing it’s power, its glory, its crown
But heeeeey — the show’s not over — !

But I wish it to be,
I truly wish it to be,
At least for me.

How simple would it be?
To end the show with a BANG — !
Boom, I’m gone, no longer a burden, no longer a nuisance — 
A sorry excuse of a human being who thinks she deserves
to be noticed! awarded! credited!

Or at the very least — said hello to!

Hello? Hello? Are you okay? Are you okay?!
Why are you yelling?! Is it because I’M yelling?!
What, who, what are you yelling at?!
Who, what, who are you yelling at?!

Are you mad at the world wanna-momma
Clamjamma with a taste for the obskura?
Lament the placenta that’s been wasted on pasta — !
I exaggerate, I’m irate, too much on this plate
Yet, it is fate that I can’t share the bait
For you too will be schooled and screwed
Until you become a crude excuse of abuse
It’s no use, do the dance and hope for that chance
Freelance! Do the art, forget the old-farts
Dart the darts, and let the fire start
Burn, burn, burn, all dem CD’s and turn
To where the nearest earnest nest is
Just to tease and test that thing hidden
‘Neath where your chest is
Look your best, don’t slouch, crack it up — ouch!
That hurt a lot, took a lot, it’s gonna rot —

Stop.
Just, stop.

You are tired, and so am I
Though we’ve slept too much
Whilst avoiding most sunshine
What’s your life, what’s mine?
What’s your life, what’s mine?

…Look away, you embarrass me.

Like what you read? Give Samantha Solidum a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.