I follow the rules of fashion

And the insensitive contracts of a corporation

And when MS-Word changes its dictionary

I obey and quietly change my childhood grammar.

I wonder, smoking outside my window

If twenty years later any of them would exist

I wonder, if they die faster than I,

then why do I care about them so much, beyond my own life?

I am on auto-pilot, now waking up out of routine

I am trying to be what my dreams urge me to be

And yet there are times I exhale and forget,

Switch back to an old theory of how I must wait for fate.

I am not a boat moored out

gazing at some beacon afar

I wonder, putting out my flatscreen

If twenty years later I want to find myself

On a couch more modest than the one I am on

Still waiting to be rescued, from my own laze?

Looking good, she talks well,

her mind is obstinate and she’s curious as a child

All of this they say of me, but I still wait to impress…

myself in all this vague search for something to connect

searching for magic in this world split apart

one preaching the pleasure of forbidden in tones of sin

one breathing life into the death it has been.

I can reach for my large circle

of tweets and statuses only to grope

at something outside me that fades

faster than the arid, cold nights

I’ve stood battling in my head

At the door of closure I’m afraid to let go

Searching for magic outside my fake colors

I am just whispering in the nude

Wanting to feel the bare skin on my back,

as I rest myself against the same window

As twenty years ago…

With the lights passing by…

exposed to the damp wind that blows out my fire

the streetlights finally fuse…

And I turn away, searching for magic…

Inside.