Poetry
WARNING: Some poetry contains adult material.
An Actor without an Audience
An Actor without an Audience
is like a heart without the beat.
An Actor without an Audience is dead.
I wander the desert- alone-
with the dryness of depravation on my lips,
looking for a cactus to re-hydrate my spirit.
I am a car without gas
rolling along in neutral
Waiting
for a pump to fuel my engine:
My tank is barren.
My purpose is paused…
Until the bright white lights of “upturned, wondering eyes”
Shine my way into being.
There’s no end of a tunnel without the light
leading your way out of the womb.
But when the lights go down
I die.
Like a fish out of water
I flop through the world
hoping for that next splash
into the limelight.
I return to a reality of hopelessness and helplessness,
resuming the futile search
for skin that fits;
for a body that breathes;
for shoes that I can walk comfortably in
and call my feet;
for a life to wear
that looks like the life I’ve dreamt of living.
A life that just feels right…
One where you don’t have to talk to yourself
to have someone listen;
Where you don’t have to look in a mirror
to make someone laugh;
A life that doesn’t need people watching it to continue on…
A life that’s just not mine.
In mine:
A look is a pulse,
A smile is a heartbeat,
and a laugh is life-support:
A moment that, like a wave,
rides the surface of the water until it is no more-
Reaching for more time,
but crashing down hard and coming up empty.
A chuckle is a blip on the heart monitor that tells me I’m alive-
That not only can I live,
but I have a reason to.
I remain backstage.
(The threshold of God’s womb.)
I am born again each time the curtains open.
I walk into the white / I float into my life
and onto the stage,
with impending darkness waiting in the wings-
its forceps pulling me out of the brightness
and into my grave…
again.
Life
and
Death
and back.
It’s an uneven cycle:
I’m Dead a lot more than
I’m Alive.
I live the life of an Actor and his Audience:
I can’t LIVE without one.




