Waving Like Your Grandfather Clock

My last birthday they told me I was 16, what’s up with that, I feel like I’m 55, my wife’s gone, I’m getting real fat, and I haven’t seen much, but I think my eyes are gonna roll down my face next time I cry, that’ll be a nice touch, I got tears from ear to ear, thinkin’ about how many dead ends are hidden in our careers, I don’t hold many fears, but the one thing I can’t see, is livin’ life blatantly unhappily, trapped in the absence of my spirit’s energy, consumed by the apathy, I’d like to keep my self-awareness, I’d like to avoid the I.D. Infamy in all fairness, at the same time man I could care less, cuz the only breaks I’m catchin’, are the ones in my headphones, and luckily none of my bones, or is that a lesson in disguise, tellin’ me to get off my ass and push the laziness aside, and I lied if I ever said I’m not terrified, I just wanna live, death seems so dark and pleasant compared to all the bright advertisements, and watchin’ the government have my soul be bent, life is quite the flight with all these clouds in your sight, the wind practically pushin’ you off your pathway, and the terrorists subliminally creepin’ only to kill you instantly, with the gun to your face you still can’t see, these clouds have set mysteriously thickly, I’ll just wait for a passenger, to come up and save me, then I’ll go home with her, let the sky clear as we stay down to earth, forever her eyes can end the search, and I’m no Sherlock Holmes but when I write these poems I am pretty positive of what I have to give, and I know this girl will let me live.

Ben Misuta

Originally appeared in the 2010-2011 edition of Outside In.