By day, I am surrounded,
By night, alone.
"Dusty trophies, empty hallways."
Talking to myself,
On the phone.
"Who am I ?
I am a Spiderman."
Alone in a crowd,
A twisted, seething mass,
"Mr. De ville, Remember me?"
Is this but,
A well played out
Farce?
Floundering,wary,
out of place;
"Ha Ha."
Should I laugh or should I cry?
Should I run or stand and face?
LIstless, fascinating,
bored to death;
"La Di Da, La di darling."
Music, my love,
A stranger well meth.
Waiting for
the door to open,
"Alcohol, Alcohol, alcohol."
Cocaine, best friend-
a mind broken.
Hail! the new day,
She dawns.
"F%^k this, hangover."
Just like the last one,
She fawns.
Yeah, yeah;
coming.
9 comments:
Interpret this, Miss Adler.
The I.S I.Adler?
You think she's an Adler type? Hmmmm, probably not. I guess it's someone else. Some smart (and lucky) lady.
was more along the lines of an open challenge, actually.
Not a fair one of course. To interpret you have to know me.
Or not.
You live in a Hogwarts-like castle (dusty trophies, empty hallways).
You have boring girlfriend ('talking to myself') or maybe she's just the silent type OR she's so bored of you that she falls asleep and you do the talking - yeah, that could work.
You have a secret super power - you can vanish your bones and raise you body temperature to boiling point, and strangely, you don't cook ('A twisted, seething mass').
For some strange reason, which I haven't yet figured out, you go swimming often in shark-infested waters, and you don't enjoy it too much. ('Floundering, wary')
And oh, you're a bad swimmer, more of the terrestrial type ('out of place').
And then, to calm your nerves after the sharks, you go to a karaoke bar - still dripping wet - and you meet 'well meth strangers'. hehe.
And finally, you are saved from the boredom-induced mortal peril when the door opens - and you're free to go back home (the well-meth stranger locks you in I guess).
And you've got a headache from all this bad singing, and the water in your ears - which you've written very cleverly as a 'hangover'.
And brilliant me figured out that there's no real alchohol or cocaine involved, it's just another wily way of saying how badly you're addicted to this swimming-with-sharks.
It's a kind of addiction - you don't enjoy it, you know it's not a exactly a useful way to spend your time, and yet you do it everyday.
And it's this addiction that you cunningly personify as a beautiful woman who lures you back to the sharks every single day, even though each night you decide that you won't do it anymore (aha! She's the reason you go there everyday in the first place).
Edit: So this woman is not personification, there is a real woman, although you expect the readers to assume that she's imaginary.
Crafty me, as you can see, is too smart for you.
I think I felt my jaw hit the floor there. I actually went back to the poem to make sure that you were talking about the same thing.
It's nice that what one writes can have so many different interpretations.
Different interpretations??? I was spot on!
Maybe someday- i shall get the chance to meet you and explain.
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