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Two Poems By Josh Westbrook

synthetic

life just seems so fake
so useless at times
like these
as I sit eating
my Nachos Bell Grande
(a fast food version,
of an American knock off,
of what once was,
an authentic Mexican dish)
and as I sit
in the same staff breakroom
that I have occupied for almost
the past five years
under the same synthetic light
(but this time it’s halogen
halogen instead of fluorescent, but
what really is the difference?)
and the same thoughts
are running through my mind
the urgent need for fulltime
employment
the worrying and caring thoughts
for him
(the names and faces change,
but there always seems to be
a him, and these feelings
seem to be the same)
Yes, and I worry about the past still
and if I have made the proper choices
and I worry about the one’s that got away
in a futile effort to understand why
and suddenly with the plop
of synthetic meat and melted processed cheese
landing on my shirt
I am brought back to the urgencies of the day
at hand
the bookdrop still needs to
be brought in
and the juvenile 700’s still need to
be shelved
and remember we close at 5pm now
not 5:30pm, the public voted for it
and they also voted 3 of my fellow employees
out of jobs and if I don’t watch my back
I will be next…

and now it’s a few hours later
and I sit again
in the staff room that remains
devoid of comfort and life
I sit with lights off
illuminated by the picture
of a Dr. Pepper can
on a vending machine
more synthetic light
more worries and stress
more thoughts of him
and more regrets
they pop in everytime I am supposed
to be relaxing
and I can’t help but notice
that life
just seems so fake
and so useless at times…

I am what I am

I am the laughter in the back of your mind,
I am the peace that you wish to find,
I am the taste of sex on your tongue,
I am what you would call–young…

I am the death some need to find,
I am the feeble and weak of mind,
I am the body you wish to abuse,
I am a bomb so light my fuse

I am the poet you wish you had,
I am that kid without a dad,
I am the dark silence of the winter’s night,
I am the one who won’t put up a fight

I am the fire within your loin,
the party you wish I’d join,
I am the horror of a frightful dream,
and not as innocent as I seem…

I am the frightened boy he abused,
I am the toy they all confused,
I am the thing they all want to try,
but I am the one that told the lie….

my flesh is a flame,
my tongue the same,
my fire is lust,
my one dream is to trust…

I am the boy you fear,
the one you will never hold dear,
I am the one who is afraid,
the one who will always be the old maid

I am the boy who writes,
I am the boy that fights,
against his will and whim,
I am the boy who loves him…

Josh Westbrook
jwest@westbrookwebs.com
http://www.westbrookwebs.com/jwest


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