The last green leaf on the tree
And the labor-and-delivery nurse at hour eleven,
The ancient peeling bathroom wallpaper
And the old dog,
The third shift gas station attendant
And the 20-year-old converse at the back of the closet,
The moon in the morning
And the sun at night,
And me.

Saturday opens
its book of pain.

I’m tired of reading
the same story.

I search for an ink pen
to write a new chapter.

All I find is needles
searching for a vein.

I’ve seen how fast
A life can pass
Yet I’m too tired for life’s dance
Too worried about the egos
of the worlds cast
And too stressed to pick up the trash of my own little worlds past

Do you dance to see the light of day? Or do you dance to see the dark of night?

Do you feel my presence when we sway? Or does it all just slip away?

A dance with life implies a dance with death
We dance to feel
Or maybe we’ve felt too much
So we dance to be

We’ve danced for so long that our legs grow numb

We dance and dance but we don’t know why.
Why is it so shameful to just stop dancing?
Don’t look at me like that
Don’t treat me like that
Stop telling me that I can’t dance

I just don’t want to

Why does it even matter if dance or not?
The floor is still there and the music still plays
You can dance your dance but I’ve lost my rhythm

For I’ve been dancing for far too long..