Blogus Arbitrarius

There once was a princess from Doo

Who found a frog looking so blue.

The frog said, “Kiss me,

And a prince will I be!”

So she did, but now she’s a frog too.

There’s conflict in a worried mind

Who sees the time he’s left behind:

The throes of youth in growing past,

A time they all said wouldn’t last.

Immortal life he’d never find.

But they look now, and what to see?

A page for him, and one for me,

And one for times he’s overslept.

Meticulous are records kept

Of every wanton memory.

And in the web our names will stay,

With evidence of games we play,

No longer lost without a word,

But in so many voices heard,

Still lost forever, either way.

Enter the office.

See people,

Term used loosely,

No longer alive,

Not yet dead,

With tired faces,

Large cups of coffee,

Made of Styrofoam.

See computer screens in every cell,

Providing instructions.

See people,

Term used loosely,

Waiting for 5:00,

For the weekend,

For retirement,

For the end.

I will not be these people.

I will not.

Be silent of feelings,

Thoughts,

Facts.

Keep them secret.

They are far too personal.

They wouldn’t understand.

Read deep

And postulate your own meanings

Of false subtleties,

Hints,

Clues.

And God forbid anything

To be what it is.

He desires.

He desires her.

He desires her absence.