a s h e s

IM NOT LAZY OK

I started with a spirit of passion,

excited about the new opportunities stretched before me

like cats stretched on the balcony railing in the sun--

but I fell with no nine lives to reinvent me and no ability to always land on my feet.

I don't like this job anymore, I don't like this work anymore:

I wonder if I am just bored with life or bored with my life--

have I been staring at this painting for too long,

causing the beauty of it to become so mundane?

perhaps I should move on, see the rest of this art gallery--

but nowadays the art all looks the same.

I find myself unable to sleep at night,

not trapped in my thoughts: but trapped in yours.

reliving the things you said and the things you did and the feelings

you have for me--

but it'd be unfair to blame just you. it's not just you--it's me.

I have a sadness I can't explain: the reasons unknown and muddy--

someone took the clarity of my mind and threw confusion inside--

who would drink this water?

I've started craving the moment I can come home

and nap for a few hours, drowning time so I don't have to sit alone and wonder

why the world is how it is.

I like to nap. I like to drool on my pillow, I like to wake up with swollen eyes

and makeup smeared on my face. I like to look at my messy hair

because this all reflects and reminds me that I don't care about life anymore.

I wouldn't call myself suicidal: I don't really want to die.

But I don't care enough to live, either.

It's hard to feel so grey in a world so bright--

or to feel like I'm the only one with color.

I feel out of place because I'm tired of being replaced and being afraid.

I wonder if this is how I'll spend my life:

if I'll tuck all my dreams up in one box and store it all away somewhere

that i'll forget and lose the key.

if i'll spend every day too tired to do the thing I love, and if i'll wake up

and dress in the same clothes with the same attitude of fake sweetness and helpfulness

when all I want to do is crawl out of this corporate, polite body and scream

about how much I want to run away.

perhaps it won't always be like this--

in fact I know it won't always be like this.

but I have inherited impatience,

and I have created lines for myself not to cross

and have shunned feelings and thoughts that I don't want

to burden anyone with.