The Bubble

The air is filled with screams
A cacophony
Wild

You are with me
We share in the madness
Enjoying the chaos

It is a Carnival
Whirling lights on rides
Sugar galore

The waves of people
Threaten to tear us apart
We lock arms and hands

The happiness is contagious
It’s the Plague
We can’t stop smiling

Before us is a clown
His grotesque face smiling
I am amused, you are not

He has a bubble wand
Blowing bubbles for children
They shine in the sun

“We are like the bubbles.”
I ask what you mean
“We are finite.”

Your words are chilling
The sun is out
But inside I am cold

Your smile is bright
Eyes shining
Hand relaxed in mine

“Please don’t say that.”
Your smile changes to a smirk
“Scared are you?”

“Yes.”
You roll your eyes
You laugh

“Don’t worry, you are my bubble.”
As if that makes it better
“Should that make me feel better?”

“It should.”
You smile
You hug me

Children laugh and point
The clown blows bubbles around us
You whisper to me

“You are my bubble
More precious than any other
We are finite together”

Your sweet but dull words
Reflect our love
But more our friendship

Waiting

The world isn’t on hold but it feels like it.

There isn’t anything wrong with sitting in front of the TV watching re-runs of shows that I will never watch again or have already seen a dozen times, writing pointless stories or poems that no one really cares about, but I WANT SOMETHING to happen.

Lately it has been nothing but bad and something good would be appreciated. But waiting is killing me. And it’s always the waiting. It’s always waiting on people, to take a test, new episodes of shows, new books, etc.

Waiting is defiantly apart of life. But that doesn’t mean that life has to be in a constant state of suspended animation. I feel completely useless, not having anything productive to do. I have run out of books, crocheting, I have even run out of cleaning to do! Basically, I am sitting here writing about my boredom and annoyance at endless waiting.

Here is my composition to Waiting

I am waiting
Catching Phantom
A mere babysitter
To the pseudo-King

I am waiting
Tied to the TV
Reliving the old days
With a rotting brain

I am waiting
Practicing French
Thinking myself clever
For no one understands

I am waiting
Composing works
Spinning thread
That only I care about

I am waiting
For Resolution
For Realization
For Harmony  

So yes, I am extremely bored.