I told you
I'm a dreamer
and then
I dropped hints
again and again
here and there.
Repeatedly.
Yet, all you can talk about is
people
People who wronged you
or didn't.
People in
politics,
business
and bureaucracy
basking away in
second-had success
and delving into
second-had failures
You talk about boundaries
when my head is limitless
I suggest
you hammer nails
around my head
and build a fence
and see if that
might conform me
into what you want me to become.
Don't tell me about work
that is uninspired
and safe like
docu-men-tation
and how you do it for 60 hours a week.
It tires me.
It tires me
how
You talk about money
Like it can buy culture or class.
It tires me
when you recite what you
hear on one idiot box
and scan on another-
never pausing to
read between the lines
Yet, I envy you.
I envy you
for your depth as
well as outwardness
towards
things, yes, things
that I feel nothing towards
and your
stoicism
towards
subjects
that keep me
sane.
I envy how
effortlessly you stay afloat
while I am suffering
and struggling
I wonder
where are your layers?
or are you as one dimensional as
what meets
the eyes?
I dont know
what am I more afraid of.
I dare you,
for once-
Tell me about
your deepest, darkest
secrets,
fears and
fantasies
and watch me not
flinch.
I promise
I will not look away
I will not blink
and hear me out
just once -
For I am here to find out
if you can return the courtesy.
Can you for once
be real?
and not
what they are telling you to be.
For once,
can you tell me
when was the last time you felt alive.
Shivi Writes 