Being There
We have all, every one of us, been there,
yet it's never the same as being there;
with that bright razor slash of confusion
like scalpel fingers through one's hair.
And the lightning bolts of uncertainty,
with incipient roar, crackle and blink;
the stranding of emotions
on volcanic isles about to sink.
The no-reason drowning feeling,
running nowhere in a muddy dream;
the harpoon impact of loneliness
enough to make an angel scream.
And love, given truly, cruelly rejected
in a whooping blast of cow hand laughter;
falling down, breaking the crown
as hell comes tumbling after.
Where you are now, so all have been,
with perplexed, fixated stare;
where you are now, we all have been,
but it's never the same as being there.
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