Friday, October 10, 2008

Jaded, by Emma Vlenio


The room seemed unfamiliar,
it suddenly hit,
the moment I turned the key.
My body against the yellow wall,
the bed sheets were white,
as blank as me.
Unnamed anger,
my swollen eyes
my hoarse voice
between my hands.

"You will be fine" they say.
I shall continue to breath, drink and eat.
"You will be occupied
with all the paperwork, school..." they say.
I shall be occupied,
won't have any room left
for dwelling on if the weather is good,
if my socks match.
I will be occupied alright.
No doubt that I can be more
than a human,
transforming into a work machine,
cut me to see if I bleed.

Sat on my desk facing the window,
blur vision, cigarette in hand,
I should go for a walk.
Morning sun,
chilly air,
my well pronounced solitude.

Necessity to be jaded now. Now.

I cling upon our trust,
more than once tossed by you,
potentially-over-cherished by me;
then I find myself having nothing to hold.
The urge to smile with sorrow;
my erratic breathing rhythm;
the sensation of trapped in obscurity;
my over multiplied constancy
in a unbalanced formula.

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