Sunday, December 3, 2006

you are what you're obsessed with, not what's obsessed with you

I'm teetering
always teetering
between reality and real
the whirl of the pencil in machine, between the grind
skin whittled away, smell of overworked, overused metal on granite
smell of rubber burning underneath my feet, they're motioning
eyes wondering, I stab them into each and every person that walks through the see-through door
I want to know each and every one of you
you do not seem to care about me,
you do not care
and that's why I wanted to leave
So many that love me,
I am loved
If you close your eyes while it's whirling you'll fancy to one side or the other
you'll falter, if you close them long enough you'll fall.

I've never closed them long enough to fall, not even that one time when I was drugged.
There could be twentysomething surrounding me and I'd still pound forward
eyes on nothing, eyes on the motion pictures in front of me
I'm in love with the idea of knowing someone
of finding someone out there, in the middle of themselves, completely consumed in what
they want
who they like, the clothes they wear, the music they listen to, what they eat and how they eat it
whether or not they like to put their hair behind their ears
whether or not they even know who "The Shins" are
something more than just Garden State, maybe.
Even though I want that movie, I want to watch it, try and feel something
I used to want it to become a part of me, I used to want it to be me
used to
When every single picture, every single thing slides you from one emotion to the next
what do you do?
Do you keep on breathing
When voices are saturated, movements so precise
how can you not want it?
How can you not want that kind of exactness, the beautiful way
life is controlled by the actions of others
we want to know, we've fed on the relationships, the pictures, the words and memories and interests
activities of others
staring into an emptied box of wires
images, pixels, centimeters
smudge, burn, sharpen
We Only Always ever See what We Want.
never going for what we might find interesting, we all stifle that which interests us
we forget our "what ifs", we stick to the bare minimums
nudity found sickening, they all want us to find our other
to spit out the epitome of all life
from inside (outside) grow up (get old(own it)) movements
we make what we want, we are who we can fall asleep at night inside, who we silently accept as okay, for now

but when is now no longer just okay
when will you be the one who people stare at for hours
whose activities, interests, relationships, whose face and skin these people want to live in
when will I be who you want me to be
a girl
a pray-er
self assured
a soccer star
a dancer
an ambassador
your smile

when I stop whirling, maybe then it will all settle down
will I be there, within all the wood chips
will you find me

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