HUMMING WITH YOUR NOSTRILS CLOSED
Erin Kappel
People like me,
are never equally balanced in anything.
We cannot be happy,
because there is no “happy”.
We cannot be unhappy,
because there is no “unhappy”.
There is only a measure of satisfaction that cannot be related to an emotion,
just a mixture of blue and purple that blends together in a jelly-sandwich bruise.
A color-coded translation ring that everyone wears,
except for those in one extreme or the other.
(Sound familiar?)
The chemically unbalanced, polar personality, scum-bags of the newest generation,
who will now be compared with the hippies of the past eras.
We weren’t born in time for the endless exploration of sex and drugs,
not to mention every combination of the two.
(PityÉ it might’ve been quite an experience.)
We are the forsaken children of the Holy Wars,
left to scavenge through dumpsters in search of opportunity,
not knowing what it looks like, or how it smells.
(No wonder we’ll never amount to anythingÉ)
But not youÉ
Oh, noÉ
You’re going somewhere,
aren’t you?
You’re going to have it all one day,
the “AMERICAN DREAM”:
An adoring husband who fucks your childhood best friend behind your back,
while you think he’s at a business meeting.
2.5 kids who hate you for trying to raise them right,
and clear out your medicine cabinet for some extra income.
A white picket fence that separates you from the neighbors;
two gay men in their forties and their adopted, ADD, Chinese baby.
The only meaningful conversations you’ll hold,
will be with a telemarketer.
(No thank you, I’m satisfied with my long-distance planÉ)
Yeah,
you go for that if it’s what you really want.
I think I’ll just sit here and accept the way things are,
while you cling to the illusion that there is still some good in everyone,
and that you,
are truly lovedÉ
I’m satisfied with my perception of reality.
I’m unsatisfied with your dependency on me to make you feel better.
(Laugh it up lady,)
because one day you’ll wake up and realize that you’re not happy,
because there is not “happy”.
You’ll realize that you’re not unhappy,
because there is no “unhappy”.
Then you’ll finally realize your degree of satisfaction,
and join the rest of us,
adding another tally to the list of victims who have received,
a bitch smack from “the real world”.
