Got To Roll Me

2.10.09

I'm trapped in this place. Streets are gray, black broken glass. Dying widows stare out of second story broken windows, curtains flapping out into the unbearable wind. Someone get me off of this concrete island, this meaningless place. This place, this room, is so dark and cold. The people are like aliens, everything exudes invisible waves of dread. All voices have vanished into some other dimension. I'll always have to return here, I'm bound to this invisible place in body and soul. Nothing is good enough that's made in here, nothing will ever satisfy. They're always listening, toggling between dark extremes as I'm shrinking from the inside, stretched to hideous proportions, too beautiful to know. The people on the outside are too absorbed, incredibly unreachable, while I starve for a strangers hand. Nothing is ever right, nothing can ever be made to please, ideals have taken over and each step bones will break, feelings will be eliminated, glass will shatter. Acceptance is not an option, only the best will do, only the worst will show, only I will fall asleep in another room, another dream, another strong, cold, wind from the bare trees waving. Smiling in their elusive expressions, part of everything forever as the hours drag.