Something Lacking Meaning

By Gila Efrat

I’m sick of writing philosophies,

draining thoughts heavy in hypocrisies.

I’m craving some action;

a mess, some spray paint

splattered across concrete,

some funk for music:

lyrics that scream recklessness and grubby feelings at 1 in the morning.

 

I’m sick of trying to find what prepositions work best;

I want to rip off the band-aid –

rip off your piece for a dress.

I’m sick of desire;

I want more;

I’m full of it,                                                                                 yes!

I want it to be tangible instead of daydreaming daily.

I’m sick of walking in my neighbourhood, replacing experiences for certain sounds to fill up spaces.

I’m sick of fantasy;

I want it now

with less distress;

I want to not have time to look for the song which fits best,

I want to be unprepared.

 

I’m sick of this anxiety

constantly hovering over me.

I’m sick of your demands of me;

people-pleasing and expectations don’t fly with me.

I’m sick of this language;

colloquialisms and formal tone, and what of my own standards?

I’m sick of try-hards and die-hards and repetition.

I need something else, something lacking meaning.

 

I’m sick of being deep;

these people, so shallow, every time we meet.

It’s enough to keep up with,

all the people I’ve fucked with  –

all the men who can’t say my name.

You would think that I care

for a more sincere intention,

but darling, I indulge in relieving tension.

What I crave is not of such intellect.

I’m fine on my own –

not needing that type of intimate.

About the poet: 

Gila Efrat is an 18-year-old, non-binary poet from Noordhoek. They are passionate about Progressive Judaism, social justice, film and music.

Image: Amy Simons