I...
I don't write often enough.
I have indigestion.
I can't sleep without collapsing, and haven't dreamt in weeks.
I rushed my classes, they feel as lost as
I do. We don't know where we stand.
I have always not done enough, or done too much.
I can't sleep without fantasising of places where
I can do anything
I like.
I imagine a portal to any time in history, where
I can save people. A mysterious angel, making things better.
I talk about Arlene too much, but everyone asks about her.
I feel like life is dry and tasteless and bland, but
I can't make it go away.
I can't stop the feeling of loss, and
I can't fill it either. It takes my courage away.
I thought
I would feel like a martyr but
I am no Virgin Mary, no Dr Martin Luther King.
I thought
I could do what
I liked, but
I haven't changed anything. Still cycling through the first night without Arlene.
I feel as if
I've lost her. Or she's lost me. Still
I'm glad
I can think and write about it. Some kids can't write what they think and
I have no idea how to help them. Even with a time portal.
I'm sick of school; and it's only been a week.
I can't stop feeling down, acting out and losing time.
I'm tired of my study.
I miss Uni and Adelaide and the whole student life. But
I don't miss the poverty, the naivety and the uncertainty.
I want to keep writing but
I have to go to sleep.
I have to get up
and do it all again.
Poetry by Blue River
Read 588 times
Written on 2009-02-22 at 03:31
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