All The Lonely Thoughts

By J.S.V.

Do you have to breathe, to eat, to sneeze so loudly?
I hate the face you make when you sleep,
And I love how you dress like that so proudly. 

Do you always have to make things about you?
I hate how you interrupt people,
And I love how you always say things you never mean to.

Where do you go when all paths are wrong?
How much can your bones take under the gavel’s weight?

Believe me when I say,
If I could tear through bone and flesh,
Rip out my pain— my bane— my brain,
And with my barren, my bald, my bare hands,
Put it to rest
In a jar, a bowl, a mug, a pan.
I’d do it in a second,
Or two, or three.
And leave it out for the night,
Just to see
If, in the silence, I could finally
Be
Free

Where do you go when all paths are wrong?
What do you say when you know every word is a mistake?

(I wait expectantly for the day this lunacy
Will be the end of me)
(Expectantly for the night of mutiny
That will bring down this tyranny.)

Get her!
Cut out her tongue!
Off with her head!
We will not rest
Until the tyrant is dead!

From her, I rip the bloody whip,
As the crowd tears, grips, and strips
Her gown of sorrow and terror,
In bellows and tremor,
While no sound falls from her lips

The world seems to stop
The clock won’t tock or tick
As the sight of her back, her barren skin, begins to sink
The several trails
Of the lick of her own whip
Make the crowd sick
Make the crowd weep

Where do you go when all paths are wrong?
Who are you when the orchestra stops playing?

I dream a fantastical dream
That after every mistake every choice every step
My head will be as silent as the dead
I will hear the crickets sing
No demands no lectures
Not a pip not a thing
The thoughts will flow on a shallow stream
And I’ll hear absolutely                  . 

                                                              ?

                                                         ?