the transient

alas, what age was it when s/he
woke up in the morning &
looked back into the mirror to find out
that all s/he’d been told by mother
was in fact, a big whopping lie?
suddenly,
all that had been
comfortable
was no longer
certain &
that even the getting up from a deep
slumber in the morning
was all but a temporary &
fleeting
state of being---
that change would come
whether s/he liked it or not,
quicker than s/he would like when s/he
wanted it slow &
it would take fucking forever when s/he
wanted it quick---
this notion smacked him/her in the head
as the proverbial “ton of bricks,”
leaving a sense of emptiness which
s/he’d never felt before &
which s/he had a good feeling,
s/he’d never be able to get rid of---
when s/he walked outside
the transient saw all the looks in the
faces of all those walking round
him/her & wondered
just how many of them had stumbled upon
this reality &
just how many were still floating in
whatever version of the lie they’d been
fed---
then the flood of conclusions was unleashed
ripping & tearing up the rocks, sticks &
plants down the mountain trail of his/her
psyche---
just how much of this change could s/he
handle? just how much stress would it
cause? just who would s/he turn to, when
everyone else was going through the same
shit & it was all completely
meaningless anyway &
how much of it all was s/he directly
responsible to or for,
in the whole of it?
this
had been a virginity
that s/he truly never wanted to lose &
now it was gone,
with an immeasurable amount of time
left with his/her heart beating
to endure the intervals
between the next calamity &
the next moment of personal chaos
which would toss him/her all up in a
tizzy,
once again.