Benjamin Adams

Benjamin Adams Feb 2012

My Body

How do we escape?
This prison isn't steel,
iron,
even simple sticks.
These bars are made of bone,
wrapped in pleasure,
flesh.
Bound in nerves,
veins.
My prison is pulsing,
beating.
I know it's a trap,
a misconception,
but even so it's tempting
to live in the moment,
to do what gratifies me
here,
now.
My body is a traitor,
fallen,
demanding,
insidiously reaching.

Benjamin Adams Feb 2012

Primal Fire

My nerves
are
smoldering.
I am alert,
filled with primal fire.
Lightning courses
through my very
bones.
My gaze
crushes.
I want to
smash
and
burn
and
break
and
rip.
Rejoice in my primality.
but even now society,
civilization,
expectations
bind me in
**chains.

Benjamin Adams Jan 2012

Fatigue

I am tired.
my thoughts
       drift

         downward

    like
                leaves
                       on
                  an
            autumn
      day
        departing
       a tree's
           sustenance

        eventually

landing on a still black pond
deep and lightless but clean.
        Clinical.
         and
          so the
            leaf
             sinks
to the mud encrusted bottom
that only I can penetrate alone.
A place where dark emotion is logic
and logic is simply gone, wrong, contrived.
No breathing, no solving, every semblance of
normality and happiness simply rotting while
I try to contemplate which of me is truly me.
Am I slowly gasping, forgetting, expiring,
or am I glowing, forgiving, exhilarating?

Benjamin Adams Jan 2012

Identity

The walls of fate
tower before me
stone and
unyielding
mocking
in its
immortality
I close
my eyes
my guts
roil
squirm while
faces erupt
and subside
green oceans
waters in a storm
inside me
they're all me
but not really
It's past time
I finally
need to
choose
a face.

No punctuation was on purpose, and it's meant to be read at a rushed, hectic pace. My own struggle with who I am.

Benjamin Adams Jan 2012

Anger

I'm tired
of receiving.
I'd rather be
giving the scars.

10 word poem. Yes, I took liberties with my contractions.

Benjamin Adams Jan 2012

Tempting

I
come
stumbling,
slowly finding.
I finally hear her,
calling seductively
from the bedside table,
wearing the form fitting
black dress that I gifted her.
But now she gives a gift to me.
A way to let go of the weight.
Tempting me far too much
to simply deliver "no."
She's an old friend.
We now rejoin.
This is how
I imagine
eating
my
gun.

To clarify, no I am not planning on committing suicide. I heard the phrase "eating my gun" the other day on a TV show and I've been mulling it over for a while now. I decided it would be interesting to channel my own experiences and attempt to reach that mindset, and this is the result.

Benjamin Adams Jan 2012

I Imagine

Sometimes when I lie in bed,
I imagine
your essence of being
laid in outline with mine,
our fragile bodies melded close.
I imagine
us swimming not only
in these earthly pleasures,
but the cool-glass waters of the mind
I imagine
all of the joy,
how it would be,
if it simply could be.

Somewhat of a "typical" teenage poem, but I still felt like writing it.