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Lost Sep 1
Under the blankets
Never shaking them off
In the depths of my mattress
Needing more than this
Stuck in my bed
Perpetually in a fog
Interested in nothing in particular
Remembering that there’s no point in trying
Every day when eventually I’ll just be
Dead
The name of these type of poems is totally escaping me right now, but the first letter of each line spells out “uninspired” when you put them together. Not really a good poem honestly, but it’s all I can offer right now. I feel so drained of creativity.
Lost Aug 30
I forget how to write
Sitting in my skin
Festering spoiled meat
Falls off the bone
When I move my hands
To pick up a pen
Before I reach it
My fingers are dust
Along with my thoughts
Floating in the air
Body and mind
Decomposing in time

I forget how to draw
Like repelling magnets
Ink jumps from the page
And into my eyes
Blinded I fumble
Stumbling I mumble
Something about art
About how it’s saved me
****** and confused
It avoids and evades me
This is a poem I wrote on 8/7 that I came back to and titled tonight. Still feeling this way about my art.
Lost Aug 21
I threw up in the sink this morning
When brushing my teeth
I stayed in bed too late again
So I hope nobody sees
The chronic messy bedhead
And the stringy, flakey grease

Putting on old wrinkled clothes
With that ***** laundry stink
Sleeping on a bare mattress
Too lazy to put on sheets
Saying I’ll pick up later
But I’m always napping

Laying on a naked bed
Swaddled in familiar dread
Making no plans to change it
Because I’m sick of trying

I’ve never felt as committed to life
As I have to dying
I haven’t bothered to write lately
Because I’m tired of whining
Lost Jul 30
I’m drowning in ****
Spewing from my own ***
I’m in a fountain of it
I’m the figurehead vomiting
Liquid feces

I’m not rude
I’m not crass
I’m telling the truth

And sometimes
Honesty ******* stinks
Especially when the reality is
That it’s your own ******* fault
Self-sabotage
Bleeding from the walls

I’m drowning in ****
Spewing from my own ***
How long?
How long until you catch
The stifling odor
The aroma of ****
Would you stick around
Would it be worth it?

Big ******* doubt
You’ll do a 180
And turn right the **** around
Running in the opposite direction
Because you found out
That I’m full
Of
****

Come
And
Sit
Next to me
I’m laying here
Festering
Soiled and soaked
Questioning
When somebody will come along
Without leaving
When my **** stinks
Too much
Sorry if the gross imagery is a little overkill lol. Just had to get this one out. Off all my meds right now and my mind is a messy place to be.
Lost Jul 22
Words in a gilded cage
Scrawled in a page
My misery rings true
In the hearts of all
For we’ve all been blue

Every one of you
Had hear a siren song call
From within the depths
Of your chest
Each ballad bringing
The same sadness
As the rest

You can try your best
But words in a gilded cage
Sparkle with relatable appeal
Because the pain of heartbreak
Is achingly real

We all feel
In our hearts
Each throbbing bruise
Every black and blue mark
Smarting incessantly
Yet dulling with age

Let poetry guide you
To a less lonely place
To a wonderland of words
In a gilded cage
Found half of this poem over the weekend scribbled on a piece of scrap paper from work, and decided to finish it this evening. Hope it makes sense.
Lost Jun 24
Too numb to cry
Too afraid to die
Too lazy to live
Too poor to give
Too young to know
Too old grow
It may sound jaded
These words I write
But hope is overrated
And I can’t seem to fake it
Deep down you know I’m right
Listening to Chameleon World by Jerry Paper and writing. Trying to shake the bad vibes a movie I watched before bed gave me. I hope everybody is well, feeling loved, in good health, and taking time to indulge in creativity.

Always remember that this too shall pass.

Goodnight :)
Lost Jun 24
My depression likes
Black curtains
So when I go to bed
Before the sun goes down
The light doesn’t
Make me think twice
About closing my eyes
And shutting out the day
Before it has a chance
To end on time
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