"Yes People."

I missed a call in a hotel room.

Even though I had caller ID.
•
Sometimes, hoping to get your point across is all you might have to live for.
Even if you’re never truly understood.
I see a lot of “yes” people.
The ones who are so eager to please others, with no respect for themselves.
I imagine them shining their
shoes, because they think that someone might notice their chapped lips…
I see them running a marathon with a cigarette in one hand, and a
martini in the other.
Like singing a song in a language they don’t understand.
Inflicting a totally unrelated mood.
•
Sometimes being a product of your environment, means finding a new one..
Even if you desire not to.
Sometimes..
There's all of this love being poured out, but it's just spilling onto
the floor.
It's a love like bright red paint, and you're all watching me make
a mess of the new white carpet.
The music stops.
The drinks shake.
The guests run out, and the host drops his mouth open as my poor little heart is emptied in an "oh no" expression.
I turn back into the statue of the gargoyle outside your tennis court.
I remain a parched and frizzled border hedge on your lawn.
I am timeless, and you’re out of time, until the season returns, and you need something or someone [like me] who’s ‘startling.’.
I hate caller ID.
- ztw