So you think you can dance? says a young mind to
her soul.
So you think you can dance, then common you
asshole.
I dare you to dance,
I dare you to dream,
I dare you to design me; provide me with your
reality.
If it’s a world so divine, so vivacious, so keen,
Let’s take it for a spin round the block, pinky
promise not to be to mean.
I can handle the truth, the reality, even the blunt
talk,
But cruelness and coldness or ideas that stalk,
Please keep these away and don’t let them settle
in.
My brain is quiet fragile, a hand blown piece of
glass,
It holds so much information and processes so
fast
The ideas that come and the ideas that go
The ideas churn over and over like something you’ll
never come close to know
But if you think you can dance then let’s make
this real
“Grab life by the horns, buck up, and fucking
deal!”
THIS is life, yes every day for me!
This isn’t a game or a poised choreography,
The thoughts so many so frequent so still
I can’t organize anything and I’ve about had my
fill!
I call you an asshole because I don’t know why
you’re here,
I asked you to dance, not grab the wheel and
steer!
You’ve driven us off course,
You’ve gone too far,
Can you stop for one god damn moment!?
I need to make sense of this all.
I don’t want another website, a trip, or a fall,
I want to stop, make sense, perhaps dance in it
all.
Embrace the music, one beat at a time, smile and
feel it flow
Alongside the music as it tickles my mind
I ask “So you think you can dance?” one thought
at a time
Why yes I can, are you ready for the ride?
The dance is fast, sick and rude
Inconceivable thoughts and be careful, they’re never prude.
I will step here, I will step there, I will step everywhere
stomping into the darkest dark caves inside your fragile little brain.
You can call me what you want, you can even beg of me to refrain
From the terror you will feel as I try to maintain
this sick and twisted mentality picture frame
that only YOU will have the privilege of being stuck in
my restraints, confides and everyday HELL
no one gets to save you, or release you from my jail.
So let’s go.
Let’s dance.
Let’s begin to design
your perfect reality in which you will reside.
“So you think you can dance?” says a
young mind to her soul.
If you think you’re in the lead, think again, a little faster this time,
you fucking asshole.
These are MY
thoughts, MY space, MY ideas to bear,
I’m in control of this fruitful fragile ship,
And today is my day to actually give a shit.
-
Jillian Beedle – All Rights Reserved
2012 ©
FOLLOW ALONG
