PASSING FOR NORMAL

Bonjour tristesse ...

I look at the ceiling. I look to the skies. No more balconies to transcend into …
No more windows to append one’s hurt … All I see is empty roads and empty skies.
And I dream of places far away. I feel tight and stuck and out of breath, and now I drown in my own uncertainty. The cold dark desk is killing me and San Juan is calling ...

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And I don’t dream about you every night and I don’t love you anymore… and I don’t hide you in my thoughts and I don’t smile to you once a day. no and I don’t need to see your eyes and I don’t pray for you every step of the way. And i don't love, why should i love ...

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Squinting eyes and smirking lines
and thin lips are all I see
Unkind nonchalance is all I feel,
except for my warm blood.
Thoughts stomping through
my head
raging boiling imploding,
spreading darkness
in my gut
translating through my limbs,
abrupt gestures.
Angry looks exploding
at the last hour
and now easing through
appeasing through,
as the warm grains
of darkness eat me through,
only to leave blankness
of heart
numbness of feelings
fault of proper reaction
short of understanding …
A state of non-existence
has to be more noble
than a state of hardly existing
than anger beyond self-control,
than a state of constant sorrows …
I don’t see the light and I don’t see the end,
and I don’t see a point of tomorrow …