Caustic Soda Reason Being
I arrived underdressed and unprepared. It seemed so
disrespectful even though they didn't care. And of course
they didn't there is real love here. It didn't matter how
black my eyes looked or how rough my shirt or face. There
was no excuse. Now i'll there be any made. Im sorry that
I left the party. It had nothing to do with anything. It
was just bad timing. It seems that I've been made to feel
cruel and overgrown. Like untrodden paths. Whats to guide
me? A couple of stars? Persistent is that sad, cinematic
glow inside. A flickering reminder. They used to say,
What other child would smile wider? But now I dont even
listen to my own replies. Im not interested in anything
thats to be said. Memory is shortening. I know it has
always been shocking. Oh, mum I . . . I dont like what Im
growing up to be. Yeah, theres a reason being. The reason
being . . . and Ive been left hanging. You hang
precariously from the edge of what youve got. Each finger
holding on. Each, a sobering thought. No Im terrified.
What have I got to fall back on? What have you got to
fall back onto you? She would say, Think of it as a
hallways. Doors to the left and right. Dont you wonder
what you will find? Maybe Im not looking hard enough.
Maybe theres nothing else. Maybe its just a lack of light
. . . Dont even bother trying to figure it out. Youre
just going to end up damaging something and thats
something you could do without. I didnt leave because Id
have more fun in front of the TV. I just couldnt very
well front up reeking of my anxieties.
