My life is
not of this world.
I wear the dress, the lip stick, the face.
Speak the words, walk the walk, keep the pace.
At times I get lonely.
And at those times I indulge in the role-
so well so
that even I forget what's real-
absorbed in the comforts -
conformity's embrace
her arms like an octopus.
My house is slipping out of order.
Everything around me-losing its place.
Socks in with t-shirts
Pencils in with the lipsticks
Acquaintances in with my friends . . .
Friends in with my people.
My worlds are colliding.
I am dizzied by the imbalance.
I am flattened by the squeeze.
I am flipping the apple cart and watching it all roll away.
My world - her light barely visible from the thickness of this atmosphere.
She calls my name . . . calls me home.
And I alone, hear the call.
And I alone, must answer.
And I alone, must answer.
