The Taproot

I know the stillness

I know how it goes

How the world decides to die

And how the ticking of the clock seems

Merely post-mortem reflexes

 

I know the child who never was a kid

Never had a sleepover or birthday party

Instead made up worlds inside his head

Pillows and flowers became his friends

Playing Harlow’s monkey

In the cage

 

There is nothing wrong with the boy

“He’s just quiet” they say

I know the truth

That he simply doesn’t know how

He’s not use to things that respond

That deviate from his dramaturgy

His script

 

The boy lives in the peripheral

The much older brothers that left too soon

Mother with her work, Father with his mysteries

And the boy

In the back seat, in the back room, in the back woods

They’re busy people after all

They can’t be bothered

 

He’s a child of the latch key

Goes home to a black house

Black has stained everything

Like algae in a pond

Mother is at work, or she’s asleep

Either way the gray hair is becoming harder to hide

One day she won’t come back at all

 

The boy favors his kind

The kittens that the rest reject

The boy to save them, he couldn’t save himself

But they will still die

And the boy knows this, though he chooses not to

Chooses to stay with them till their light

Burns out

 

I know the boy ages and eventually finds humanity

But I also know that it’s too late for him

Even now, there’s no one to turn to

Not everything has a substitute

He’s a stranger to his family, an imposter to everyone else

Not even he knows quite

 

And so he grows into a world of Edward Hooper

Trapped in the painting

A living still life

He can’t tell what’s real

It all starts to feel like a dream

He doesn’t know how to wake up

 

He sits for hours in the dark

Without anything

He sits and ponders

There’s still a world inside his head

It’s his neon green exit

His safe place, his solution

It’s his

 

I know the stillness

I know how it goes

How the world closes in around

Like a heavy shroud

As it pulls away at the same time

Disconnecting day by day

One day, it won’t be here at all

Author's Note

I actually don't like this one, but at the same time I want to save it somehow. It feels too synthetic.