I Don’t Want a Stupid Title

To write self-indulgent, self-pitying poetry!  Who’s with me?!? This one’s named after a classic Tiffany song…anyone spot the reference?

if happy’s a religion
i believe but i’m not practicing
another word describes how i feel
call it angry, call it petrified
bored, drunk, tired, mystified
anguished, broken, lonely, hollow, real
life’s a bruise not meant to heal

tell me something I should feel
give me something, anything, that’s real

if sorrow is pain amplified
its chill reverberates inside
condensing tears like water on a glass
menagerie of fabled things
the beast called hope is killing me
with tales of how half-vacantness won’t last
beware, bright sides that bite you in the ass

tell me only, this too shall pass
give me something, anything, to grasp

with age there comes no wisdom
just well-practiced ill-precision
where at times the pieces happen into place
bad ideas, father such decisions
as wrong ways beget collisions
no ring masters, just a circus of mistakes
souls get tired, but hearts get all the breaks

tell me there’s something I can’t fake
give me something, anything, to dull this ache

there’s no need for commotion
if you turn off your emotion
and leave unchartered waters to the fish
fall insync with the motions
bathe a well-travelled path of ocean
and tread water until the day that you die
just dream of falling underneath the tide

tell me I’m not empty inside
give me something, anything, but all this time

tell  me something I should feel

tell me something I should feel

remember when Prince William was the hot one, before he went the way of Charles.  My prayers (and daydreams) are with you, Harry.