Too close to call

Beginning with excitement, and soon thereafter ending in pain,
Close calls announced wrong, which break a make or break game.
In the hours of darkness, not many hours of sleep remain,
I still look for that sense of community to which I’ll ascribe my name.
Hidden rooms downstairs, through hallways, around corners, through doors,
Give way to nicotine fixes, good convo, and the aftermath of gift exchange,
The heat confined in the musky draperies takes opportunity to outpour,
Giving way to the coolness left in the wake of players range.
We all have jobs to do,
We all have goals to seek,
We all have bills to pay,
We all have utilities that are due,
Deadlines each week,
And moments we don’t know what to say.
These unite us, confine us,
And remind us they don’t define us.
However, when we leave our prints on the windshield,
We also leave our mark upon lives,
And the same things which unite our moments,
Erode the reasons each of us strives.

I forget what I said sometimes, or perhaps wish to is more true,
The selective ears propagate fears,
And create a schism between me and you.

Quaint little phrases with predictable lyrics,
Dribble from my mouth to the screen,
Meanwhile my soul lies in unheard hysterics,
And I can’t put a finger on what it means.

About SIDEWAYS EIGHT

Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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