frivolous life

fluttered and frivolous;
slipping in and out of consciousness like crystals in the sun
To stop myself short of breathing in this dust
these rays of sunlight that seem to disillusion
and hide the pain of years long gone.
I would keep every drop of candle wax
every scrap of paper, every dimpled face
if I could
its enough to keep me still
inside the simplicity of a child
I search through boxes of paper and treasures
only to find myself digging through bones
unnaturally and painfully aware
its enough to keep me terribly awake
when all I desire is to fall asleep inside of each picture
I sleep under magnolia and smeared lipstick
dragon flies and pennies
the inability to let go, the grasping too tightly
it suffocates and exceeds my reach
the sleeping mind,it never sees the truth
but which truth is to be heard
and which is mine to choose
I try to scream in a room yes,
I could scream in this room
a room with four walls and chairs and people
painted doors and lightbulbs keep my silence
i'll be someone new
pretend to be a stranger to myself
a stranger with courage and knowledge
I could do without your facts
I really could
live without the blank answers
that tell the tale of how my world came to be
I could live without knowing the physics and gravity
the analytical stripping of the stars and the
day to day opinions of politicians, celebrities, and
biological breakdown of what chocolate cake does to my body in calories
Yes I could live without knowing why
but I guess that makes me small
and I guess my sentimental attachments create frailty and innocence
and I guess innocence is instability; innocence is ignorance, naive
and childhood is no state to be in
to be living successfully in this world
well then I will tell you i'm none of those things
i'm not a philosopher I suppose, i'm not an engineer
i'm not even a magazine full of the top 10 everything
and I was perfectly content
with my life of boxes
but you know sometimes its time to erase the windows
and pack up the old things
put them away and never speak of them
yes, maybe thats what growing up is
with sorrow in your hear
tyou become the magician --no longer in wonderment
but knowing the tricks, and leaving the magic.