Ariadne's Thread

there was this boy i knew once

his eyes were filled with toy ship dreams

and catch knit schemes

his body was like a circus, juggling and twirling

bouncing and laughing

death defying and frightening

haunting and limber

mysterious and vocal

but somehow, somehow, silenced by the night

by the world's own disgust

by a life ravaged by pain

one after another

pills down the throat of an addict

the boy couldn't cope

still can't remember

still can't forget those images impaled in his mind

he feels out of place

feels alone and comatose

sanctioned and distant from all those around him

imprisoned with bail in his own mind

and yet, somehow free

madness

insanity

genius

all the same

all the same

i knew a boy once who couldn't even look himself in the mirror

who didn't know what to do with himself

who couldn't get a date

lost in the misery of being ugly and not feeling like everyone else on t.v., in the movies or on covers of magazines, thinking her was the only one, only one who ever felt like this

when he looks around at other people, what does he see?

he doesn't know, i don't know

i think he might see other laughing at jokes that aren't really there

or caring for people who don't really exist

pretending to love people so they won't be alone, at night, like he is, lost in memories, lost in sleepy dreaming, lost beneath the covers of his past, but i can never know what he sees, nor what he feels, what he digests or even cares about, to me, he is just like everyone else who is lost without cause or reason, trying to survive in a world that is built around the blonde hair blue eyed perfect skin jocks whose image is splattered across the halls of schools and country sides, who probably don't exist except in some childhood fantasy, but that is irrelevant for the boy can't see these things, but he can remember the pain, it is the only thing tangible, to the boy, there is nothing except the pain, the pain, the pain