Genies must have disappointing jobs

Alien.
Welcome to the extra
terrestrial and encounters
of kinds you’ve never seen
at least not from me,
I keep all that shit locked up tight
Behind this fine, polished metal
flying saucer somewhere
out in the midst of this infinite
space.
Alarms go off at me
when you’re at close enough
proximity that you can touch me
and if you can touch me
you can hurt me
and I can see from all angles
from my viewing screen
got those phasers locked
set to stun so I won’t hear you scream
in space.

Even though I can’t hear you
I can see you.
And I know that look because
I’ve seen it many times before
and all of this is recorded for posterity
so I can remember them vividly
And I can’t decide which ones hurt worse
The ones I fired upon or the ones
who turned and walked away
Left met feeling betrayed when
all I had ever wanted to say
from the depth of my tentacle feet is
I come in peace.
or
I came in peace until you beat feat
and I was left in defeat
doomed to repeat my self-fulfilling
history.

Foreigner
[No, not the band]
I am an island to myself
as I have an island
to myself
The washing waves caress
and create great distance between
your caring heart and my
swimming-in-the-shallows
indifference.
Sometimes, I am comfortable here
by myself with only my own thoughts,
a makeshift pen and a palm frond
to write on.
Okay, it’s hard not to do this without the internet
and a computer
This is a wireless hotspot with netflix
in case you were wondering.
This island is mine and sometimes
I like it vacant and quiet
where my thoughts can relax and crash
against the shores of my imagination
creating swirls of worlds and words
that have not and will never be written down
I just don’t have
that kind of time.
And I grow used to the silence
to where I only hear myself and
a movie on probably in the background somewhere
along with the wind and the waves
and I wonder where all the ships are

Not that I mentioned any ships before
but I could have sworn that, at some point,
there were boats moored here,
not a lot because crowds create
electricity inside of me, thunder rumbling anxiety
But I could have sworn they were here
Not too long ago…
I took my hands and carved a note
as big as I could
in the sand
and filled it with fire so you could
read it from the sky and
the smoke could be seen for miles and
Maybe someone would see
and then I realize they’ll see it and say
It’s just me being me…
Is it me?

Home.
My room has a door
with a lock that I never use
’cause I got nothing to hide
and it’s too much work
to get into my room to steal anything
but I keep it closed when I’m in there
because it’s where I can go to be alone
There are 5 other people in this house
and it’s just a model of how I feel
everywhere else I go
It’s as if I’ve created this world for myself
where I exist and then there’s everyone else.
I can see them, talk to them
touch them if I dare
[I never know how people will respond these days]
and while I’m able to mentally ascent
to the idea that maybe some of these people
might actually take time out of their day
and care
about me
I’m all blast shields and smoke screens
Even though I wonder sometimes if
and this is going to sound crazy
people actually like me.

You see this hardened exterior didn’t
get here by accident, I am not a product
of some self-produced facade
though some might say that I do it for effect.
Yeah, maybe when I was 17 but I’m 27 now
and, you know what?
I wear clothes like this, I ink my skin like this
I decorate my face with surgical steel because
THIS IS HOW I FEEL TODAY.
THIS is the sum total of 27 years,
half of which have been spent trying
to love you like me
to love you like me
to love you like me
to love you like me

The world comes knocking
[KNOCK.KNOCK.KNOCK.]’ing
until its knuckles bleed
and the world doesn’t bleed blood
because the world is not a person
okay, it carries people and so
there may be blood in there somewhere[End Digression]
But when the world cracks
its knuckles open for you and me
it opens tectonic plates and pours lava
down the door and it seeps underneath
Even though this door is hollow core…
Anyway, the world doesn’t get in.
Nobody gets in except scholars
and fictional characters
and even then its only on paper, audio
or video form.
In here I am the king of my world
and my own dungeon keeper.

I do feel alone, you know.
And sometimes the past comes flashing back
and lashes me like a whip
and not in the good kind of way
But I’m not self-destructive
so I do what any well-adjusted…
okay, mal-adjusted but purely
objective
person would do.
I punish my body, I put it to war.
War usually lasts from 30-60 minutes.
But it gives all this bullshit somewhere else to go
but here.

I want to meet the statue of liberty.
Because, even though she’s French and old,
she still wants the tired, hungry and poor
even if the country she literally stands for
doesn’t anymore.

I want to meet a wizard
so I can take his magic wand
snap it in half and tell him to stop
waiving it around all willy-nilly
like giving people what they think they want
is ever going to bring them the happiness
they have ascribed to the thing they wished for.

Genies must have disappointing jobs.
Them and Santa Clause.

Most of all
I guess I want to meet you
Without judgement or concern over
what’s going to happen next or
who’s wearing what or even if you like Nickleback.
Yes, even if you like a band that plays
the same song for every track on every album
I think I want to meet you.

So my starship has more than a compliment of one.
I’ll give you several. Compliments, that is.
And my island is not just me and a palm tree.
Because, between you and me,
that palm tree doesn’t talk much an is terrible company.
And also so the world will stop bleeding on my door.
I can’t walk on lava… yet.

But maybe we can learn together…
to walk on lava like God intended.
What? Lava is only a step removed from water
and Jesus totally pulled that off.
Well, I guess if you say no
there are other things we can do.
I’m kind of sick of me.
How are you?

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