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"A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures." The Picture of Dorian Gray

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

day eighty-one: could you just...?

could you just
really listen?
could you just
really hear me?
could i just
follow my own rules?
could i just
make up my own mind?
could i just
breathe for a minute?
before you run me over
with your endless questions
and trivial statements
about who i am
and what i've done.
would you mind
ignoring my bull-headedness?
because that mass behind my eyes
(brain?)
it hurts
from all these thoughts
and all this frustration
and because i'm just tired
of assumptions
being thrown at me
and i'm tired of assuming
i know who i am
because i don't have a clue.
honestly.

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