spotlight let's pretend the world is my stage. for it once was, and still is, i assume. everyone will be hanging on to my every word, seeing as strands of hair fall across my face, representing my shattered existence and dislocated lifeviews. i am expertly trained to capture stars and break illusions, i've become incapable of creating any of my own. i've been locked up in chains and made to say yes, no, one or the other, because there isn't anything else expected of me. while the world goes about ranting and raving and appreciating everyone else's work, i've become used to the anonymity, the silence, the solitude of my own voice tapping, my fingers typing, listening while others successfully weave out their lives in paper and song. poetry to me is a lost, abstract art, a language i can no longer practice - but to live and breathe yet one more pass i fool myself into believing i have some sort of contribution to make. i choose a nook and cranny to eke out my existence and i let fly. my pen bleeds and my mind spills. my knowledge and my skills are up for sale. take me, try me.


  ¶ 7/25/2004 03:07:00 AM