Green light
I should really be minding my own business
Keep my hands off your feed,
keep my cool,
keep my distance.
But here I am–
keeping tabs and bearing witness
To outbursts of your opinions,
career updates, and your new mistress.
And I can practically picture you downing your Guinness,
As you profess and apologize for your own existence.
I am overcome with jealousy, like
some kind of seasickness,
And I gawk in despair and self-hatred,
ashamed of this mean,
vile weakness.
And she is so beautiful,
they always are.
Precious and angel-like,
a shining star.
And I simply can't wrap my head around
how you managed to land her.
How does your reticence
match with her seeming candour?
And what the hell am I doing,
browsing for her university degree?
What does any of that
have anything to do with me?
I mean, it's all out there in plain sight,
how can I resist?
But if I were the cops,
I'd put me on a watchlist.
Silly, silly me–
Making macabre jokes
out of misery.
And I wish I was above it all,
I wish I could brush things off easily.
But instead, I collect
damaged goods like gemstones,
living remnants
of ancient history
I brood and devour
each new glint I catch on the side.
And I can't look away,
can't let go,
cannot take it in stride.
It consumes me,
and I live vicariously
through the snapshots you share.
Wondering if you're thinking about me,
wishing I was there.
Cause I hate it here,
I absolutely hate it here.
Living like an outcast,
an outlaw,
goddamn bottom of the tier.
All I hold dear
is all around you, right there on the other side, and you don't even know.
You take it for granted,
you forgot my name, serves me right,
and I cannot let go.
Always a bridesmaid,
never the bride.
I sit at the entrance,
and I can't get inside.
So I watch from afar
how you're reaching new heights
But it's none of my business,
it's not meant for my eyes.
Silly, silly me–
Hoking up dreamscapes
to escape from reality
Stuck in between.
Listless,
sleepwalking through the smog.
Keeping up appearances,
keeping a stiff upper lip,
what a laughingstock.
You wouldn't sit next to me
if you knew what hatchets I never buried.
You would laugh in my face
if I told you about all the torches I once carried.
If you caught me in the small hours,
you'd see a dog-weary,
shaken mess.
But I put on the flashiest show in the world,
and you'd never guess
I should probably go to sleep,
and turn off the phone
for the sake of my sanity.
Yeah, he's doing alright,
Well screw him then,
and screw closure,
and screw clarity.
I turn on my back,
close my eyes,
and try to dream up my golden age…
But all I can see there before me is a blank page.