Thesaurus Abuse

by Pippin O'Leary

 

Somehow, I never feel better
after telling my side of the tale.
I’m not angsty, angry, tough as nails
but what I feel…
Empty?
Unfilled, bare, blank, vacant..
The thesaurus tells me what else I could be called.
meaningless, purposeless…

So, this is the best I can do?
Not naming, just writing, waiting?
Should I purr to the skies, should I coo
to the doves, the family, the trees?
Sing a song write a poem
carve my name in stone?

Ah, confusion. I was wondering when you’d come
to my window, to my parlor, to the barrel of the gun.
Metaphorically of course, you’re not real, you know.
Just a figment I imagined, now get on with the show.
Show me laughter show me tears, all these emotions I feel
on the surface, on the outside, on the exterior.

Mmm... me, rant?
Raving trailing words spewing out?
Why yes, that describes me nicely, I do so believe.

A poem you say?
I thought I was rambling.. .
Not exorcizing rhymes, sonnets, limericks.
Anyway, I don’t have a pattern

Sanity is personified
in the well-adjusted individual
A rare beast, that one.

And I? My sanity?
You question it, I see…
Try and describe me, I dare you!
You’ll never like what you see.
Dig deeper, look harder, go faster, stop.
Go away, leave me be…

What am I doing?
I’m watching the clock.
The numbers shift, never ceasing in their watch
Ha-ha, I made a pun! Watch, you see?
The handheld clock, the observing face.
Oh drat, I never was good at that.

By now, you must consider me quite commonsensical.
Or was it illogical?
Big words often perplex me.

There’s that sound again.. what could it be?
Ring, ring... twelve times it sounds.
It’s the sound of night fleeing
hearts stopping
cars stalling
fingers drumming
It’s the final bell of a school yard.
The final signal for me

And as I sit here, typing, writing
I look at my thesaurus,
Faithful loyal devoted thesaurus
I wonder what it got me into this time?



 

 

 

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