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checking a blank screen
Folder:
Exploding Hearts slow throb in my extremities
call away my light headed ache
well past the heady sweat of evening
in hours best spent on sleep or sin
my empty house sits at home
what on this digital screen
can pass for connection
after a million well hidden interactions
and a few failed actual emotions
colored yet another dinner shift
strangers might actually care
at least while face to face
and passing thoughts of anyone else
who might hope today is a good day for me
did not reach me with words
"call your sister" did reach me last night
bizarrely twisted genuine attempt
translation: "care about her. i don't know how."
solution: alcohol and exed exes, then a triple ex.
the odd salve for temporary relief of destroyed self
but nothing fills an empty house
no color light or sound, no twitching technology
no bland gourmet feast or vile liqueur
no soft fluffy creature, real or fake
offers genuine connection
in spite of so many mindlessly parroted words
by strangers masquerading as acquaintances
with best of intentions to improve foul mood
in spite of so many trite kind offerings
i am lossed
As another fellow person who
As another fellow person who vies for inspiration and connection, I understand this message. "My empty house sits at home"....brilliant. I am so tired of mindless stranger conversations that lack depth and are full of fake smiles. Maybe someday someone will wake you up. Life surprises us sometimes.
"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.