the Destruction of word(s)

There Goes The Neighborhood

There are moments and days that lead to weeks
From months and back to years
When I feel cheated
I am told the feeling that you are cheated is unfair
To projects one’s own feeling onto an emotion
The voice says can be senseless.

And that’s the way I feel
When a man as weak as me
I find myself always in the middle of the road
No future known just a steady path
One that may lead to nothing
At times this scares me.

Typical responses I share
A reaction thinking I am someone to be
Realized as un-ordinary
To plead to be thought of anything but average
I plead to be my own self
And the whole meaning of something other than the present
Moderation can be a mean of freedom

No time left for idle hero worship
The acceptance of every writer I ever read was anything but a median
For life is meant to be shook up
To be anything but a steady medium
All my favorite musicians never copied from someone else but initiated their own
Into the influences to take a chance with change.

I scare myself even when I say that
I cannot deal with “it”
And the acceptance is nothing something I can yearn to satisfy
There is often pleasure found in uncomfortable feelings
And yet I continue to meander on the page
Dribble the words out like a waste dump
The flies swarm around my head as I press gently on each key stroke
Writing used to mean something and wasn’t a place for people like me to go