Chamber

I have a chance to die here, all alone,
Overcrowded beach of faceless strangers,
But I run away, leaving my friends to
Die there instead, solving nothing at all.
In reality, the isolation
Chamber I constructed for you, that we
Joked about, was made really for me
To hide behind, so I could watch the joy
Of your life without disrupting its free
Chaos filled essence, conflicting and cold.
Your eyes in which I deign to lose myself
Are set soulfully on another man,
Invisible and imaginary,
Whom I do not know, yet envy still.
Our shared kiss is dead in the annals of
History, forgotten by you because
It was a footnote in your weekly game
Of who next? It yellows within my mind,
Tearing at the edges as I fight to
Grasp that feeling of meaning something to
Somebody once more, when the truth is
I never did, because they all run away,
Empty words floundering in fear behind.
My time is spent chasing indifferent
Shadows daily and nightly, waiting to
Catch one and never let it go, because
The order attained in books and films will
Finally be mine when I do, even
Though the stories written for amusement
And entertainment are written only
To cash in on manipulation.
They are not real and they never will be,
So this hope to achieve the scene-set end,
Of taking you on the beach as the waves
Whisper, telling us that the world has stopped
Spinning, is futile, because this chamber
Is designed to prevent, not to create.


(the last poem ever to go on Bebo).