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Poems - COMFORT ZONE
| | COMFORT ZONEby phishy
Comfort Zone
It is only once we got over the idea of one another that we became the entertainment for parties or gatherings of the people who called us friends: because we were so settled as an entity, like breathing. We happen automatically… We react and interact with one another without pause or consideration, each enhancing the opinion. These people, these friends use us to occupy their tome, liven up their gatherings; the newcomers are alerted to our presence as soon as we have announced our route to the scene, these are warned that we are rather open and unconventional; slightly strange they’re told. It is us that can twist an entire vibe around. Power is so easy to obtain.
Then it becomes suffocating. Being the social butterfly takes time; appointments must be made and kept, decisions of separate fan clubs depending on necessity and conversation type. Suddenly it feels like I’m not getting my fair share of you. I feel unloved although I’m not and I crave the experience of some form of outing: be it movies or dinner or even just a drink. Time with you where it is simply me you have to initiate full interaction. Where I have a time to simply dedicate my full attention to you and you to me. Away from the uneducated, unimaginative conformists that we do so enjoy twisting to our own preferred form.
You always make every effort, you make the commitment. Always willing to satisfy and please… within reason. We plan a night of exposure, only the other for stimulation. And you always follow through. I feel loved and understood and happy and appreciated again, even if we don’t quite go according to plan.
After debts paid and daily limit drawn we are left with a comfortable budget for a special occasion. And then the ideas bite: the ideas of drugs on a tight budget, now you can once again treat yourself to some powdered oblivion but if you do, it’s all you can afford. Options are varied and many and eventually after you ask me, we opt for that oblivious freedom. We travel to collect our bliss, take lines of our paradise while cruising through residential areas. Smoking a joint occasionally and simply... chatting. Simply sharing little things, opinions and thoughts, experiences and ideas, standards and values. Just being ourselves with each other and through one another.
This is the happy place; the place that both stimulates you without being an effort to comprehend, where freedom and unguarded comfort are the only needed expressions.
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Added on: 17-Oct-2008 | Hits: 315 |
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01: Pujakins
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