A poison has filled my veins
Once ingested, reality fell ill
My conscious thought—remains
as my body folds forward against my will
A teardrop runs down my cheek
dissipates, broken, no longer based
I mourn for a matter, ‘till this day oblique
my heart, trapped, but willingly incased
I am held together by a single chain
a link binding me to a cold metal fate
The past burns with a deadly bane
from a passion, now of the late
Constant fear trills through my flesh
Never ready or prepared
For another, so fully mesh
Firmly against my chest, evenly cared
My innermost feelings reflect off her eyes
mirroring every ounce I am willing to give away
A millstone is lifted, as my heart is gracefully taken
followed by my feet, my lady, if I may?
I stride my left-foot forward to start the Waltz
Our feet: forward, turn, together, and no plan to cease
If I step on your foot, this man is at fault
For you are my beauty and I, your beast
I've recently fallen into an elite group of individuals: youth diagnosed with depression by their mothers.
I can't argue with her; she is licensed.
But I can't help but feel that my case is different, minor in comparison. I'd like to call it loneliness but it's more developed than that.
It's like a cancer that started in my fingertips when they realized there was nothing to hold on to, and has since spread to my heart or my brain, whichever is responsible for the distribution of numbness to my bones and vital organs.. I'll call it 3rd stage loneliness. I'm saving calling it the 4th stage for when it starts to feel terminal.
"Lonely" is kind of a slut of a word, like "love," or "beautiful." I think people like to use "lonely" like teens use cigarettes. It taste good when it falls off the tongue. And by my observation, they both cause cancer.
Everyone wants to be "lonely" but no one wants to be alone.
So I've put it upon myself to separate loneliness into subcategories, based on mortality rate.
If you're wondering why I'm lonely, don't bother. I'm wondering the same. I have friends a family that loves me, and the rest of the chemo-esque shit that's suppose to nurture you back to health. But
I've still got that tumor buried under my skin where no one cares to look.
I ain't got many friends I can talk to.
I've concocted a list of side effects of 3rd stage loneliness, if you're interested:
1.) Insomnia - the inability to completely shut the third eye on your skull because it persists on looking to the future.
2.) Selective Hearing - the inability to listen to supposedly happy music and instead sulk with the sounds of Bon Iver or Bright Eyes ricocheting through the canals of your brain. Music your friends "probably haven't heard of"
3.) Loss of Appetite - Don't worry, you still crave food and other survival necessities. You simply lose the appetite to expand through the universe. Loss of Ambition, as the form would say.
4.) Improved Acting Skills - You'll eventually learn to manipulate the stringy muscles in your face to pull up the corners of your lips when you feel you are expected to. Not all side effects are bad.
I am not one of those darkly dressing teenagers that complains with visible angst about being misunderstood. But I do have the hair for it.
I am not suicidal. Maybe I would be, but I seem to have been struck particularly hard by Side Effect #3.
But at first mention of depression you can see their faces squirm and contort to resemble a clumsy soldier tap-dancing through a minefield, while simultaneously conducted open-heart surgery on themselves.
This poem is not meant to sadden, to depress. It is simply for the public awareness of 3rd stage loneliness. If you know someone suffering from this disease, please call this hotline:
The more you know...
Sadness is a stone
washed over with tears,
rubbed over and over,
until it is so smooth you have no reason to keep it.
Most take their stones
and make a path over water,
trading their small ones for larger ones,
realizing the weight does not make a difference
in how they strike.
You carry many stones
of your own volition,
you are bruised all over,
your stones attached to your feet,
your hands filled with shards.
I cannot help you so I take mine
You smile and tell me not to worry,
but I cannot help thinking you will walk too far
without putting any stones down.
I will watch you sink,
scouring an edged rock the size of my heart
until it is guiltless and placid
and my hands are bleeding.
and subsequent investigation
bring a new declaration
“No more Renovation!”
“I’ve had it to here with provocation!”
The White man in charge holds court
“Wealth redistribution for the goal of no social stratification
Will be met with the harshest possible punishment”
Fighting for air, water, and scraps of food, the masses, begging
look through shit covered glasses at the vastness
of what they do not posses
distress sits at the dinner trough
while swine dine together on the souls of sick children
darkness falls on the scene as the media blocks the sun and moon
leaving only the poison glow of 1000 television screens to light the feeding
burn ward atmosphere complete with screaming babies
surrounds the huddled lifers—those stuck in existence
those buried under the filth of humanities desire for global dominance
I sit shrouded against the din
Misery monster bent on the removal of the status quo
with hate and GMO foods as my weapons
infiltration of the sovereign nation with the specific destination
the heart of the beast
on a stake
over the fire I built
I eat the wealthy
Consume their greed with ketchup leaving only old bones to be bleached in the sun
True, I will have to pay for my sins against what existed
death will be the only recourse for my actions as people hate change more that pain
so to suffer for the betterment of my brethren
is well worth the lifetime of dealing with
the mental anguish cause by
Nothing pulling you one way or the other
At town square
Where the table is talking to the chair.
"The chair speaks at 12 o'clock!" the table calls.
The wind howls through the dusty streets
And the typewriter of the the town sends what the chair speaks.
"Hey . -.-- .," the chair speaks
"Where it divides you."
"Divide and multiply."
"Don't blink, for it thinks to nullify."
Doorknob is a beating heart
Bleeding sharp objects to the floor
Screws, razors, and knives bled to the floor.
Walk one way, on carpets.
In through the back door walks another
He's a calculator puking formulas
Puking squirming formulas
With only two buttons
Divide and multiply.
"Life = add, subtract, divide, and multiply."
But Hey . -.-- . seems to nullify.
Take a chunk out
No facial recognition
A piece of wire from the chin up through the nostril,
Oneself at the back door.
Threatening to sleep,
The couch sleeper
Chiefing at the end of the couch.
Craving, longing, slinking around,
Fingers as crooked as trees and wants,
Spines for legs and spines for arms.
A cough through the walls,
A cough through the walls.
Dish detergent surgeon,
Pieces floating in the water.
Water, a shower surfing on a person feeble in the shallows,
The selves (listen) twitch together and, in time, strike by the hour to
Hey . -.-- .
that you don't always need a lover by your side
to keep you truly happy
and fully satisfied.
it'd sure be nice for once if I had your hand to hold
when the embers in my heart die
and the blood in me grows cold.
would seem warmer and the frost would melt away
the ice in the pipes that are my veins
would surely cease to stay.
a strength I never dreamed I'd ever feel again
a herculean kind of forte
my broken heart it would mend.
when I'll cross your path on that dark and rainy day
you'd be the ray of sunshine
to illuminate my way.
would be like my favorite book with so many things to love
I'd discover more about you each day
see, you fit me like a glove.
would beat in time with mine and bring life back into my chest
a day like this one would be dreary
but with you, it'd be my best.
Whose mouth do I speak with
When my anxious thoughts multiply within me
from my heart or from somewhere deep within
Should I bridle my tongue?
Or wash it out after with soap
Or should I allow it to ride the wind
Until it lessen in time
It’s tempting: to give away my thoughts
I hate the sound of other poet’s pens
Should I freeze their ink cartridge
and spare the world the pain
from their internal and external mishaps
Should I close my eyes, and say
All's well with the world
The things we must do: not to offend
However, we have to endure many things
to conquer and to win bits at a time
“Comrade-in-arms to my old friends”
all isn’t well within our world.
Because I am a sonnet
In search of a poet
I am imaginative, forceful, and compelling
And sometimes disciplined
But today, who mouth must I speak with?
Your consolations delight my soul.
Basking in the safe, smooth, heat
of her love
I am transported to soft clouds bouncing gracefully into green mountains
plush foam stuffed animals fall wistfully from pastel skies
and we spin, hand in hand…smiling
swollen heart nearly bursting with joy
radiating heat and light onto those around me
filling children with unbridled ecstasy as if ice cream waterfalls
fell into cotton candy pools
elation encompasses me with the realization that this love in not unrequited
but, is instead returned with the same vigor and fervor
experienced by triumphant athletes or politicians
winning glazed with success
and her smile attracts my eyes and I feel warm
and her scent stirs my loins
her existence embodies my desires and I weep
overcome and underserving
just a man, and more, just a human
but enough for her
perfect for her
we share an embrace
feeling it pass between us
Come together then fall apart
Defibrillate this broken heart
Draw lines to bridge that gap between
Where I end and you start
And break the laws you set in stone
Wind and sand and dirt and bone
Confound your own confusion
A house isn't always a home
Open your mind and forget what you know
And I'll forget that I don't know any better
Just know now that you're not alone
We are in this thing together
So show your inner deep down cracks
Share your secret inside laughs
And I swear I'll see the humor too
I feel funny when I'm with you
Then we'll go out and paint the sky
If you're my girl then I'm your guy
Can this joy be kept on ice?
"I'm just so happy right now,
I could die."
And everything's all out of order
I've called back the army that guarded my border
But you can't invade land that's never been owned
Are we together,
Or together alone?
It's never mattered
It matters not to me
When I look into your eyes
You're all that I can see
And all that I can know
And all I'll ever be
Is a man staring back at eyes
Forgetting how to breathe
you are the light breeze on my swollen lips
& the heart pounding it's lost lovers last breath
inside my chest
you are the evening calling out for all the rains
to bless their drought and lack of all beautiful things
but you must know you are the most beautiful thing
I have ever had to never wait for
& I will always dream of kissing your neck
rolling up music notes into handmade cigarettes
so I can watch you drunkenly smoke
while you tell me everything you've never dreamed of
I want to be that thing you dream of
as soon your pillow hits that New York bed
ten thousand miles away from me
I want to be that thing you can't get out of your head
& when you kiss me I want your kisses
to be the last ones you every package up and send to somebody new
I want to be something new every day for you
so let's turn down the bed sheets
say goodnight to nights apart
& let's just sleep
forever in each others arms