As if trapped in some
vicious layer of hell,
doomed to live
those awkward,
uncommunicative days.

I thought when you got older,
you got wiser,
turns out, you just get more eloquent.
the rest stays the same,

as you try to eek out
some little morsel of information about so-and-so.
Only, instead of holding hands,
you are throwing your bodies around,
because you've realized,
not only,
what fucking IS,
but that it doesnt matter.

What matters is feelings,
and my God,
we want to know what you're feeling,
but we are too
socially assfucked to actually ask a person,
too pompous to understand
common language,
such as 'im not'
and 'lets have fun'.
We are trying to read too much into
trysts
and companionship,
so we are always on the phone,
or huddled around,
talking furtively about so-and-so,
and he said, she said.

For all our pathetic murmurings,
we start to think we can
manipulate,
we can use strategy,
we can propaganidize to the nth degree,
until all the lines are blurry
and you dont know how I feel about you,
and I dont know how you feel about me,
just want we want to think we feel.

Furthermore,
people are passed around like playthings,
so and so belongs to him...

*such and such, whisper whisper, shudder, cry*

its no wonder we are angry and volatile,
we are confused and being used and using.
no one is considering the human being.

and so we muddle things up
and make things appear rosy to one friend,
and tell them what they want to hear,
and make things seem black with another,
and tell them what she said to hurt them,
or to rend asunder relationships we are jealous of,
or want to get into the middle of,
or want to posses.

*desire, desire, desire*

Such childishness.
We are all human beings.
We all feel things.

08/20/2009

Posted on 08/21/2009
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens