Ghosted in the autumn when silence was my
thing. Close up, upon further inspection; call it introspection and being
self aware isn't the bliss I'd think. And I wait. Just in case, an
explanation rewards my patience but who am I kidding? I can be stubborn
to my own demise and its no surprise I'm alone. And the disguise is
laughable when the loneliness is palpable. And I wait. Something better in me; a resurrection. Give me three days to
apologize. Prop up my sincerity for the sake of perception.
If that's what it takes to reverse this hole you left as you slipped through
the walls of my life. And I wait.
Maybe it was one sided. I'm okay with the self-absorbed. Between the
Hallejuahs and thank you Lords, the golden rule becomes double speak.
Things I love, like minds and mystique, become rest stops to some twisted
kingdom I seek. And I wait. Just in case, you cared for me beyond
the chicken soup I sometimes served. The praying kind isn't always
concerned. Small talk was never our thing. How's the
weather, the banal think. And I wait. In banality.
Highs and lows. Some bi-polar parrot
repeating my thoughts. The autist in me still has undeclared wants.
Cocaine and narcolepsy. I'm awake. I'm asleep. Silence was
always my thing. Hands like a fist, throwing hopes at the device I
hold. Words come to me on this inhumane screen. Tell me where the
ghost of autumn was last seen. And I wait. Just for noise.
Came to terms I am someone you don't want around. Change the furniture to
make room. The flowers of December won't fully bloom. Just in case,
I wait.
