no boundaries

not who I used to be, just a fractured capture of an enigma wrapped in a mystery,
picked clean like fish bones on a boulder nestled by the sea, the shining sea
that waits for me, restless, selfish, bored beyond all believability, just longing,
just longing to be set free, given early release for not behaving at all, just let loose
to escape the noose that slowly strangles the life out of me anyway, it's really all
that I have left to say since the Muse took the cue, and caught the last train back
to the heart of where I will never go again, way back in the time way back when,
when no one can remember a winter as bad as this one, and no one can speak of
things that really matter, but nothing's the matter anymore, it's all just such futile,
puerile rubbish that it isn't worth wasting a breath on, not that breathing is something
that I care to keep doing, but I keep doing all the things that I am doing just to fill up
the time, don't want to leave any holes in there, follow the rules, watch your step, pay
attention, mind your manners, respect the boundaries, oh, yeah, respect the hell out
of those boundaries drawn for you by others who know what's best for you, except
how can others know what's best for you, when you don't even know what's best
for you, and then the voices, and then the laughter, and then the staring, and he's how
old and he lives with his mother, and then here's a dollar for your trouble, and then
here's more trouble, sorry we are all out of dollars, better luck next time, better luck
next time, no time for your tales of woe, we have real lives, you know, we all have
real lives, so why don't you just stop bothering us, we never really liked you or your
stupid poems anyway, you were just a little fascinating for a little while, and with
your store bought smile, we thought maybe you would be fun, but now you've gone
and gotten all serious, and it makes us uncomfortable, and just like when you were
homeless and we talked about other things, well, now, you are making us feel very
uncomfortable, and we like feeling comfortable, so you will have to be going, get
along, now, get out of here and go depress someone else, our favorite show is about
to come on, and we have no time for this maudlin display of self pity from the likes
of you, so head on down the road, get while the getting is good, scram, vamoose,



and I finally rejoice because one person has heard, even if it was just goodbye.



February 4, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved, like anyone pays attention to that anymore.