Mentor muted
March 02, 2009
Sometimes you ride a self righteous high horse.
Shining in your candor, everything you say sounds sincere, sharp, and close to home.
But then you're off it again.
And things turn gray and tinny.
Something slinks low in my stomach, the way anticipation turns you sick through, all at once.
You look at me with your eyes all hollow and wet.
Passionless.
Bereft of motive, intent, volition.
The truth is, you've nothing to say.
Your hands twitch meekly at your side, an open palmed shrug.
You let out a rasping sigh. Your mouth trembles, stretches a tired smile across your lips.
You look at your feet.
I crush a cigarette on the ground, breath out the dull, thin smoke.
Tonight, the waxing moon beams down a reckless grin, baring its teeth to the whole world.
Tags for this piece: depression manic creative ego moon mentor advice