LJ Idol LPF Week 8

Topic: Sprezzatura
Disclaimer: Language

so fucking pretentious

and derivative

and predictable

and nauseating

like where do I get off

who gave me the right

have I not grown

in all this time

indulgent

that’s what it is

attention-seeking

deformity of matter

like what was it

that line from x-men

the slurs

right

mutie scum

gene joke

fuck I'm alive

fuck I'm dying

fuck I’m pointless

I didn't ask for this

I didn't ask for this

body

brain

name

neurosis

solitude

fear

paralysis

arrogance

want

want

want

want

like thirst

like having to tell the lungs to move

move

as if I ever could

as if I was ever more

than the fetus that didn’t kick

I mean what the fuck

kind of fucking baby

doesn’t kick in the fucking womb

like hey

this clotting mass of cells

already knew

that it was pointless

already gave up on itself

long before anyone else could

and boy howdy

did they ever

but you really did

buy into that

noble hero

righteous protagonist

grand destiny shtick

huh

fucking insufferable

how the hell

can you be

an elitist

an egotist

with no self-esteem

what is that

how does that happen

like you’re entitled

to be the conduit

of untouched realms

of human potential

while everyone else

is just a lowly normal person

like you’re in touch with something

ineffable

bullshit

and somehow

you make it even worse

you crave external praise

affirmation

acknowledgment

yeah you’re so above it all

while you grovel

for a kind word

a kind look

a touch

I thought we were past this

I thought we had evolved

moved beyond the husk of a human

past the frigid golem

let those other Ryans die

the gruesome deaths they deserved

as forgotten and unloved

as they felt

why is there

this glimpse

of a being

so

innately

blithe

fluid

unfettered

pure

interred

so deep

in this

putrid

mound

of

grief

what happened

to the boy

in that year-long window

before you ate

your weight

in despair

the boy

who danced

freely

readily

under Lola’s coconut trees

while singing Tiny Bubbles

without a care

to the derisive laughter

of the family

who danced

to C+C Music Factory

in an oversized shirt

for PJs

whose go-to move

was the back of the hand

to the forehead

and an exaggerated sway

as if

to faint

at a moment’s notice

overcome by

the flood of music

why don’t you have

more memories

as this person

this boy

so happy

so flamboyant

so himself

why does he exist

solely in unguarded photos

of that lone family Disney trip

where he was

mugging for the camera

like none of the cousins

serving model poses

hips jutting fiercely

as if the Epcot ball

was not a big enough stage

isn’t he the person we were supposed to be

wouldn’t things be better if we were

more truthful

more fulfilled

more us

why was he the only Ryan that got buried

why didn’t anyone put his picture on a milk carton

why didn’t anyone mourn him

why did we accept unhappiness as a personality trait in the second grade

can we please bring him back

please

even just a little

can we see him

if we look

close enough