5.20.05 Stir-Fried Thoughts

Copyright 2003
by Meagan Blanchard

I have lied to myself more than
Anyone else has in my life.
Those little white lies, told to the heart
From the brain in my head,
Whispered words that are
So asinine, so inanely foolish;
As they cut all my confidence
Into easily consumed slices of apple.
I have this apathy now, for all things,
In general, I just care less and less; numb.
The boredom of my days and nights,
Turns my heart from perfect blue to red;
Bleeding endlessly, a great catastrophe.
Laughing at myself now, because all
My many words are on a child's bicycle
Heading nowhere, helping me not at all.
My personal calling, that will never be heard.
The frustration I feel as my life fits neatly
Into this nutshell; kept there by
Knots of love and luxury,
Sin and trust, creating a disguised haven;
That is really a perilous prison,
Where inside my mind I scream of
Unanswered issues to God or
To some divinity unknown.
It all lacks justification, as I am
Trussed up like a scandalous doll,
Ever diligent in my appearance;
Just following the example of those before me.
A creature of habit, and easy paths.
While my friends are my foes,
And fiends become treasured confidants;
My fears become elephants blocking
My quest for valor; killing me, simply.
Easily... Like insatiable goats eating all my emotions.
Restorative for them, death sentence for me.
But, I lack the gumption to raise my voice an
Octave and plead for them to stop,
Because they are so handsome in their igloos,
Little imps rambunctiously yakking
Zipping and jumping to and fro;
Distracting me with their overzealousness.
So that when they place me on the hot wok,
I am stir-fried without protest and my screams
Become liken to the Doormouse music,
All bass and drums with a hardcore techno beat
Rhythmic, and surprisingly complex.
And all I can think as I sizzle and wonder is
How does this sound issue forth from my mouth.