by Neesa Suncheuri
These empty blue chairs remind me of
Musical theater once played for that stage.
Romanticized death, entertaining tragedies,
Costumed fawns, prancing faeries,
Twittering ambiance of gauze and grace,
Blood spilt but in but the audience’s imagination.
Therein lies the stage’s grave.
Hero and heroine blighted with scripted bad luck,
Nightly repeated, salaried performers evoke
Smiles and tears, then drama ends, they
Return home to their marriages, hungry children,
Affairs, heroin needles, all skirting the lower classes.
In the bosom of a whore is found art,
And in her closet is found inspiration,
This multiplied ad infinitum.
Theatre now is a waning delicacy.
Endings and their morals no longer nourish,
But instead appease appetites for
Smiles, laughter, sugared endings,
A hunger to forget yesterday’s intuitive woes
With sexual invites served to children,
Teaching our tomorrow about their tomorrow after.
Yesterday predicts tomorrow,
But one day, would tomorrow not happen?
For me, I look up into the sky,
And I see those blue seats empty.
Not a soul watching the figment of my life.
Neesa Suncheuri works as a mental health peer specialist at a housing agency in Queens, New York. She is the founder of a Facebook discussion group for peer specialists and other recovery enthusiasts, entitled “What is Wellness? A Mental Health Discussion Group.” Much of her creative inspiration is rooted in her now-tamed schizophrenia. She is a singer/songwriter, and performs in various venues in the city. She writes poetry, maintains a blog and is currently working on a memoir. Follow her on Twitter at @aquariumspeaks.