A Conversation: @EllieHorgan

Twilight lands on the precipice of a new day
And all I want to do is lay about and stay
Inside these four corners of pretend and play
And dance and jump as way leads onto way
Find the spot on this stage where everything’s ok
Take a deep breath, one, two, three and do it as if
We were back in the bay
Where the breeze shuffles forwards and shift the rays
And there it is, standing before me, within my reach,
All I have to do is say g’day
Raise my voice above the sound of the ocean and pray
“G’Day! G’Day!” But it’s no use, the target is receding away
And suddenly the earth melts and reassembles into clay
Where am I? Who knows, but it’s filled with shadows, shapes
And an endless void of misdemeanors and a droning wane
Staring endlessly outside this window, seated precariously at
The windows pane
And now I know, there isn’t any answer to my conundrum no
Known solution, X=?, so I will just have to accept my fate and,
Patiently wait
Wondering what’s the difference between this existence and
Reaching the end with the golden gate
Is there anyway? External existence in a boring sinless world,
I’d think it would be best just to hang around rather than lay in state
Of in-between and that is the difference between you and me, weighed
Down with problems piled on silver plates
You could even say we are weighed down by silver spoons that we were
Packaged with, but alas, that’s a lie, its social ambiguity that leads us to slate
Ourselves over and over again with the message that only spoons are our friends
And we will never simply be able to recreate
With people of our same strata or anywhere in the social spectra
In this time of shallow debate
Running over pointless topics of conformity until the moon falls asleep we are late
To our own lives. Beyoncé’s latest hair and The Kardashians Shenanigans consume us,
Til the exterior world is but a shiftless grey void of heads stuck in phones and head phones
Replacing our fun potential dates
The flash of TVs and computer screens blinding us to the nature of the world morphing
Our self image, changing our fate
Until eventually we end up like those blasted silver spoons. Motionless, still, an antique of a time gone by, who’s lives can be measured out in a single blasted coffee spoon and can be summed up in a single #tag, and left no mark on our gravestone slates.



A Conversation by leannepoetry and @EllieHorgan


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