i stood before the wall of books trying to decide my new life's motto.
i decided it should be a poem
i walked to the poetry section.
on my way to that side of the bookstore i thought about how angry i became when i see young couples doing all the things that i want to do with my girlfriend when i have one.
i thought about how frustrating it was when you had to go to the bathroom right when you were about to pick a random poem that would become your new creed.
i wondered why there was a rose attached to the bathroom door, right above the cleaning check off list.
i imagined the young bookstore employee, fulfilling the worst part of her job, cleaning the men's bathroom. when she see's the rose, some sign of affection left by maybe another employee, maybe a boyfriend.
i imagine her smiling, scrubbing toilets with vigor, knowing someone cared.
i wondered how i would look with a different hair cut, i tried parting my hair a few different ways before leaving the bathroom.
i imagined myself actually talking to the girl that was browsing through the health food section.
she looked over at me,
i quickly looked away.
i walked back to the poetry section and again faced the wall of books.
it would have to be random and automatic.
fate would choose my poem
my life verse
my mantra.
i picked some random book and found a page somewhere in the middle.
this would transform my life.
okay, well that one sucked.
i picked another book, whitman this time.
surely walt whitman could empower the kind of transformation i was looking for.
and maybe he could, but all his poems were just too long, way too long to memorize.
and if a poem is going to be someone's life motto it needs to be memorized.
i looked around me
i wanted to tell that kid to stop staring at me, and to take off that bandana because he looked like an idiot.
i wanted to throw my shoe at someone and run.
i wanted to kiss the next pretty girl i saw, just to spite the boyfriend that she most surely had.
i wanted to sit on a rock and smoke.
i wanted to jump a freight train and ride to the east coast.
i wanted so much
and no poem told me how to achieve it.
no other person
no sermon
no song
nothing could tell me what i wanted to hear.
all i wanted was proof that i exist.
all i found were black symbols on white paper.
i went home and wrote some of my own.
5:54 p.m. - 2004-05-18
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
i-lost-sarah
aryssa90
newschick
stardumb
hexes
gonzoprophet
meffinmisfit
cybers1ut
the-grey-one
movingsands
dangerspouse
unowhatilike
silverluna
elusive-you
tobehis
kenny-loo
brothasistas
my-rant
is-life
godsintimate
ruby--sky
creme-egg
darkly-blue
reevo
similar
dooki
dagkyo
obijuan
buddyboy5
u2october
nudeplatypus
mojo1915
baby--girl
cindylou03
alwaysinhim
greenstar7
krunkjazz
dudemanflab
spittingame