Thought and then Forgotten

Enough! I am finished with this world
of quiet writing that I’ve built and stored away
in the bottom of my sock drawer.
A world where men and women shuffle everywhere,
where flowers smell just like stones,
and love is a disease that causes bodily aches
best cured by hiding in bed.

That world is flooding. Townspeople scream
but secretly delight in this untimely end.
The promises they made to themselves
can be forgotten.

Enough! It is high time I start picking fights
with strangers over they way they spell
gawd, not because I know but because
neither do they.

There are too many answers
scratched into stone
and not enough questions.
Formulate! Formulate! Formulate!
Dictate your masterpiece
to the masses
and then contradict yourself
on the walk home.

We must ice skate through existence;
moving forward only by pushing
in opposing directions.

Maybe.

Enough!
The world will always wake up
before you.
You can add numbers to the clock
but the hands will just sprint faster.
When you finally fall in love
it will be with a French philosopher
from the fifteenth century.
Tomorrow, when you are finally perfect
in every way it still won’t be
enough.