This is tiresome

The thrashing energy
The struggling concepts of
This interior and that exterior

The back and forth,
The up all night but
Still dreaming

The "am I crazy?",
The hopeless spirals
That circle and drain into
The soil, and plant
The "It's gonna be ok"
That sprouts a new day

This cage is sound proof.
When I feel the need to say
Something nasty
I scream it until my voice
Is nothing but
A hoarse
whisper.

I could say the meanest,
Most unsavory things

And you'll never hear them.
Unless you find
A way
In.

If you have one too,
A cage I mean,
Scream in it.
Then listen:
Nothing.

In my mind
Everything has a cabinet
Separated, organized,
Tiled clearly and labeled with
Well written titles
For easy access
When needed

Then you happened

Now the aisles of mind
Are covered in all the things
I organized so finely,
And I can never find
The things I need to say
Because they're all
Mixed up.

If you could be anyone at all
And walk any path
Who would you be?
If you could see the world
As it is
What would you see?
If you were me
And I were you
What would I dream?
Of love and confusion?
Of untidy rooms lazily
Letting the days pass by?
Of the end of the world
Or at least the end
Of a world?
Or maybe someplace better.
If it didn't end would there be more?
Or would it all mean less
When the mornings never end?
If life wasn't brief
Would the immortals be seeking
The fountain of sleep?
Whether it's meaningful
Or meaningless
It may be better
Than what it isn't.

The 'ists keep talking to me
Reciting from memory
Something that came to them
When they needed it

They tell me I need them too
Their 'isms
Because if I don't have an 'ism
Then I must be miserable

I nod my head
Single syllables are enough
To give them the feeling
That they've helped me somehow

Despite their insightful 'isms
They're easily agitated
By something as common as
Another 'ist

You've been dying for some time now
Stooping a little more each day
You are
A reminder for the old
An adventure for the young
An eyesore for those who are neither
And now that you've endured
Years of negligence,
Centuries of singularity
You're scheduled to be reduced
To rubble
To be buried
Under an usurper who is
Clueless to what lies ahead

A pretty stranger
Walked into my life
And took photos
Of things I see
Every day

If you should see them
Would you let me know
What things I see
Every day
Really look like?