This is not a poem. These are my words slipping out of my mind onto the page. Escaping the cage of needing to mean something and running to freedom. There is no backtracking. The chase is on. A big cat in pursuit.
I was a jaguar. High. Fast. Invincible. Until I awoke torn. Face against fence. Morning light blossoming behind my eyes like throwing stars piercing the membrane of my brain and questioning my decisions.
Was I curious or just desperate for feeling?
Fueled by addiction I overcame my shyness. I went to strange places with strangers and did strange things. A nut in a shell. Cracked open and discovered rotten from the inside. Bitter and off. Spit out upon the floor with others. Spittle and shells.
Hiding behind pen name yet I still cant bring myself to fully confess.
The avocado never ripened. All its creamy promise unrealized. Hard and tasteless. Disappointment. That’s me. Am I an unripe-able avocado? No. Just a common disappointment. No analogy necessary.
I’m a hack. Hiding unskillfulness behind poetic license. Smudging lines and blurring mistakes in the name of art. No one will see through me if nobody sees me.
I feel need. Deep need. Why do I feel so empty? Am I so vacuous that I need to fill myself with others? Why am I not enough?
There is no way to end something that has no beginning. Yet I end. Here. Now.
Or is there more? I listen to pop music and my head starts to bob off beat (or is it offbeat?). Thinking of karaoke blunders and laughter. Cries of victory in a French restaurant. So “murican”. Good times.
The dog seems to like me. Is he a bad judge of character or does he see my potential?
Ice coffee now in hand I think of old drinks of comfort. Hot cocoa with my mom. Special occasions brought out the whipped cream. Warm memories.
Coffee is done. All to soon. Time to move on.
Be well,
Monty

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