the existential romanticist: Poems

Jan 2014 · 561

Finals

the existential romanticist Jan 2014

Finals

Cram, cram, cram, cram
That's starting to become all I am...

Study, cry, sleep, eat
It's a helpless cycle stuck on repeat

Type, write, focus, focus
But I can't look anymore at this bogus

I'll get what I get
because I'll probably forget,
and that's just the reality
of this detrimental lethality.

Jan 2014 · 626

Heartbreak

the existential romanticist Jan 2014

Heartbreak

Where do we go from here?
When I've said all that has to be said?
When I've done all that can be done?

I didn't see what was so obvious,
and perhaps that hurts the most.
But it's just another disappointment,
added to the long list of mine
that keeps compiling
over
and over
and over again.

Maybe I won't be able to wake up suddenly
as cheerful as the sun on a clear day;
maybe I won't be able to act like
everything is okay
even though I told you it would be.

Maybe I won't be okay; maybe I'm not okay.
But you don't know and you'll never know
and I don't know if you think about
me more now that you understand
what I am and who I am
and who you are to me.

Time will tell, when the bell strikes midnight,
when the nights engulf your mind,
when you're alone in your room
and you have the whole universe to dream of --
you then have to look at yourself to know
if you're truly at heartbreak; because I am.

Jan 2014 · 422

Don't

the existential romanticist Jan 2014

Don't

If I tell myself I'm over you,
I know I don't mean it.

If I tell myself I don't love you,
I know I don't mean it.

If I tell myself I don't care,
I'm not fine.

If I tell myself that I can't hurt anymore,
I do anyway.

I **** up every single time.

Jan 2014 · 636

So Many Things

the existential romanticist Jan 2014

So Many Things

God there are so many things
I need to tell you
But I can't seem to find any of the words.

I'm scared you'll laugh
Or be so flustered you won't speak
Or be so confused because you couldn't see
The signs I was giving you this whole time
Everyday
Every text
Every smile

But I'm scared even more that
The moment will come and it will be b o l d

And I won't be ready at a l l

And my dreams will crash upon my soul
With more pain than stepping on needles,
But in a way I am stepping on needles
In my own mind with my own games
With a piece of tape across my mouth
That you can't see but I can feel.

So I hope that I can pull off the tape
Because they say it's like a bandaid,
But can it really be said
That the feeling of showing your feelings
Can equate to a small wound?

It's terrifying because it can equate to all wounds:
Big small round bruised sprained broken
U n h e a l e d

And they'll never be healed because
The heart can't repair itself after a while.

And there I have a conundrum to have to
Risk exposure to the world
In the hope that my heart won't
Have to heal itself anymore
But will instead have a healer.

Jan 2014 · 793

Emotions

the existential romanticist Jan 2014

Emotions

Do you ever
just look in the mirror and
decide that you don't care?

You don't see a point to
dress up anymore, to
start every conversation,
to spend nights dreaming of
an unreachable daydream.

They tell you it'll all be okay
but the walls you build up tell you
otherwise. And once you let
those walls down you're disappointed once
again.

Apathy, when will you come?
I'm so full of emotion, so full of
tears and hatred and happiness and
thoughts and I need it to end because I over
think and over like and over hate and over
over over over over over.

Jan 2014 · 416

Think

the existential romanticist Jan 2014

Think

I think a lot about how my life will turn out.

I think a lot about death and it's wonders.

I think a lot about lyrics to songs that express how I feel.

I think a lot about self image and self consciousness.

I think a lot about talking to you.

I think a lot about being with you.

I think, a lot.

Jan 2014 · 583

Being in Love

the existential romanticist Jan 2014

Being in Love

A little girl looked at me today and said
"Being in love is magical."

How can I tell her the two sides of love?
How there's a high and a low,
an up and a down?

One day you feel happy
and want to rejoice
and smile and sing
to the sky and dance in the rain and
jump in the puddles and make
snow angels in your jeans and thin
coat because you know you won't
care how cold you get!

But another day you'll want to
stay in bed all day and eat that box
of chocolates you know isn't good for you
because it all doesn't matter. You'll want
to sleep and cry, sleep and cry, not smile at
the terrible jokes your friends make and not be
comforted by the gestures people give to you.

You'll feel your heart elevated, your pulse soar
higher than an eagle, your face turn crimson and your
palms get saturated with every bit of nervousness in you
when you see the person you like and you'll stare and
smile and chuckle nervously...

But you'll also feel your heart break in your chest, your
lungs fall somehow to the pit of your throat as it clogs
up and you don't know how to talk but just that you feel
your eyes sting from the strain you're putting on them not to
tear up and you have to say a long line of "I'm fine" ' s over and
over to them to let them know that you need them to get away
and you need to go away yourself, in a state of decay in your
bedroom where no one can see you for a while, stone-faced
and no longer in love, but in pain.

So how can I tell her all of this truth?
A universal truth felt by all?
I can't break her heart,
for all is felt by experience.

I just look at her and say,
"Yes. Yes it is."

Dec 2013 · 870

Go to sleep

the existential romanticist Dec 2013

Go to sleep

1 a.m.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
But there's another episode on,
Forget about counting sheep.

2 a.m.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
But a magazine just leaked pictures,
How can I not be a creep?

3 a.m.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
But I want to listen to sad songs,
Sulking over someone I can't keep.

4 a.m.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
But I can't right now, my phone gave off
A little quiet beep.

5 a.m.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
But my bed is so far away
Can I even make that leap?

6 a.m.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
My alarm clock goes off,
And I know I'm already in too deep.

Dec 2013 · 388

Morning

the existential romanticist Dec 2013

Morning

Why is it that the problems of the night,
seem to melt away in the rays of the light?

All the thoughts seem to dissolve,
still in a way that we can't solve.

You remember where you've been,
the thoughts you've traveled in that little inn
in your head where you're greeted,
and check out in the morning before you can be seated.

The bellman at the door just gives you a look
that tells you he knows you'll be back in that nook.

"Goodbye, chap" he says with a smile and a nod,
but you can't get yourself to smile at the sod,
because the truth is that you don't want to return,
in a dungeon where you can't learn
what it takes to be happy.

Dec 2013 · 383

I give up

the existential romanticist Dec 2013

I give up

I can't concentrate

I can't think

And when I do,

I think of you.

Dec 2013 · 404

Waiting

the existential romanticist Dec 2013

Waiting

Where do I go from here?
Where do I go from all the effort,
all the emotions, all the thoughts,
all the dreams, all the wishes,
all the poems, all the hints,
all the implications?

Where do I go from this moment in time,
from waking up every morning wishing
you were mine?

Where do I go from these heart beats,
these sweaty palms,
these nervous laughs,
this inability to be calm?

Where do I go? Do I tell you I'm lost?
I'm confused, I'm bewildered,
and I think I can see the cost.

Can you tell me where to go?
I don't want to find my own way.
I'm waiting for you to show,
just waiting for the day.

Dec 2013 · 740

Words

the existential romanticist Dec 2013

Words

There are so many, yet whenever I see you, I have nothing to say.
I prepare and prepare and prepare,
a speech well memorized,
ten seconds long.

So many songs that expose my feelings,
it's just a message away,
a little notification.

NO! The resilience, the effort to fight the potential happiness,
because I'm drown in a world of sadness,
and I'm used to the pain.

I'm used to the tears, late at night, when the hope is gone.
1 in the morning people are asleep, but I'm not,
I'm haunted my memories of potential,
by the looks you gave me,
by the stare,
by the smile.

But it's your eyes that are the reason that I'm shy now,
the way they keep focused on a single point,
a point that looks through the layers
of skin into my heart.

Then I wonder, can you tell?

Then I wonder, will words ever even be enough?

Dec 2013 · 275

What I Am

the existential romanticist Dec 2013

What I Am

I don’t know what I am yet;
I don’t know what I’m meant to be.
Do I change the world on step at a time,
or do I have evil in me?

I don’t know what I am yet,
I don’t know how to find,
That little piece within my soul,
I feel like I’ve left behind.

I don’t know what I am yet,
I don’t know how to change,
The thoughts that engulf my mind,
A continuing whirlpool I can’t rearrange.

I don’t know what I am yet,
But I do know one thing,
When I’m in my darkest moments,
I have something to cling.

I don’t know what I am yet,
But neither do you or you,
And I welcome your mind to the manifestation,
Which is only felt by few.

— The End —