Me Not Amused

And it rolls out like words across sand
and they burn down my throat as I keep my mouth shut

because I remember why I am here
because I know I've move across the perimeter
because I am happy there observing

rancor boils under me building magma seams readjusting
and all of this my shit that I don't deal with and the things I keep in quiet and tight and not spoken
there's a reason to be silent
and I know that

I am the silent type
even though I am engaged in a conversation my mind is somewhere else farther from here
and I listen to all of it so often that my ears sort of just stopped giving a fuck
and sometimes my lips do too
that's the problem with not keeping your mouth shut all of the time

I do that
open my mouth
when I don't have shit to say
thinking somehow what I've got suspended between thoughts
can be expressed in words
that if I can for once finally expose my soul completely to a stranger met off the back of a mirror

I will find myself seen and recognized and learn the meaning of my name
but instead it's not that
it is something else entirely and I can't have a word for it
because I still don't know the feint and perry
of word play
or the constructed social mechanisms within which I am obliged to operate
quietly perfecting my aim and hoping that someday the target appears

I try and fail and try and fail to try
yet still I try to learn within my being
the definition of my name the soul of the what the fuck who am I in this world
whose pants where these before I pulled them off the rack at the goodwill
and how is it possible I continue to accept all of this nothing and everything
at once and be fucking careful with fast machines, hot sharp objects, and love
be especially careful with that thing people call love
however overly pragmatic my certain disbelief in a personal ability to resonate with fear

I remain observant
the target is only the beginning of the shot
to see beyond to reaction and consequence

therein lies foresight and dependable action