1992 (High School) 

and the heroes I once worshipped (pedestal)
are now just mortal...
assholes 
with what eyes did I see their greatness?
or was it their greatness that I needed to believe?
what great disapointment! ...  their mortality

and the lovers I once craved (pedestal)
the lovers that betrayed
I hated and desired -breathed (the end of a scene-repeating)
he, that peaked my curiousity - my hunger for something greater... MORE!
never being what I needed (what DID I need?) 
never being what I wanted (what DO you want?) 
never being what they claimed to be
or what I dreampt them to be ... some ... some...
cycle and on-going fantasy 
the people changed but it was all the same 
glory boring story and...

never knowing me 
I, never knowing me. (bright lights) 
constantly aware of how I might be percieved
I looked at them all- 'knowingly' 'strangly'

Yes, the strangest stranger was my gig - my grand facade
my false beauty - 
trying on costumes that fit - only in the temporary
like the masochist
and mysterious - 
some weary wise mystical lady of morrison and floyd
the quiet philisophical poet who never spoke except in verse
inside? this misery without reason (or so it seemed) 
for an actress- fantastic
a 'junkie' ... hooked on the un-reality
addicted to the idea of what could be but never was.

documenting. those words were MY words in 1992 - high school
and they spewed out faster and faster - like nothing. like water- rushing. 
nothing could stop my false genius
and although it was bad- lacking meaning  
the poetry of that time  
do not tell me these lines are poor- I need to feel them
I am in control. 
I created the images I see
I dictate what begins and what ends
always escaping via the pen
and thus standing still- my mind
never evolving. 
never progressing the present.
never addressing the reality of things
it was crap.

approve of me
look at me
love me.
my friends! my desired! my self! 

yes, the masks we wear
when we can not describe our own face (even when we look in the mirror) 
the fingers, the flesh that we tease  
with the hands that hide in pockets and sleeves - denim

when we dance - to be loved (desperatly)  
from the others
all the while hiding behind some thick wall
that keeps them all at a grand distance

1992. I did not appreciate the beauty of my existence.