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  Jul 2018 Carl Webb II
Left Foot Poet
for Tascha

deep in the pond of unhappy, swimming,
drowning the next contemporaneous
depression thought quickly swallowed,
desperation in quick glances everywhere,
dawn is no consolation but just another
daily drawing tighter of twine cutting
disillusionment


dear god, commences every thought,
delayed answers have yet to arrive,
**** the deity's non-responsivness,
dare not say out loud lest,
deserved fates be worse, be realized,
didn't know? how can that be?
disguiser par excellent, I am the original
deceiver

But I never think about

death or dying, for that would be
defeat finale, a statute to, a status of none, a
destiny some wick spark, still insists can be
deferred

differed always,
diffidently, but grasping yet at the
double entendre that is my
dark vision of a future already past

May 2015
may 2015, back when I could write...
Carl Webb II Jul 2018
heading in the right direction
makes me question,
“am I headed
in the right direction?”

I don’t know
but, I keep going.
never slowing
never looking back;
I have to stay on track.

I bought this one way trip to heaven
and I'm never coming back.
Carl Webb II Jul 2018
can I grow tomorrow?
place a bucket over my head
to block the sun; protect my innocence
for a while. I'll grow tomorrow.
but, today. . .

I just wanna see the darkness
with my eyes open, in hopes
of understanding. I can be aware
of my surroundings, though I
do not see, distinctly, I can
tell that I'm surrounded.
something bigger than myself.
protecting me from what is good. . .
so that it won't become the bad. . .
protecting my naiveté.

just leave the bucket;
walk away.
I'll grow tomorrow.
Creative Commons License
alt-blossom by Carl E. Webb, II is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
Carl Webb II Jul 2018
You don't know me yet but, one day,
you will. My name is your name.
I'm _ years old and the year is __.

There's your preface. Let's begin.

---------------------------------------------------------­-----

you are a ******* and you know it.
a literal *******. you smell.
you're sloppy. you're always laying down.
you're never doing anything . . .
except waiting for somebody else
to push you out and make you
see the light before you're
finally flushed away into eternal darkness . . .

you're like a baby, is what I'm saying . . .
the "*******" reference was
only meant to be metaphoric,
you're still cute. chill . . .
you just don't do anything!

but, one day, you will.
you just gotta grow first.
like, mentally and spiritually.
the physical will come, don't even sweat it, kid.
oh, oops, my mistake . . ."big" kid.
forgot you're like a whole toddler now.

you still don't do anything, though.
except yap away.
yap. yap. yap. yap. yap.
but, you still don't really say anything.
and it's not 'cause you don't know how,
I mean, geez, you're like a preteen now.

you just don't care. and you told me, specifically,
"I don't care." and I said, "fine".
'cause I'm not there.
I'm not in control of what you do.
like you're not in high school anymore, man.

you don't have to do anything
you don't want to do. you know about life.
you know how it works. you are able
to do the things that you want to do . . .
you're like an adult, for ****'s sake!

but nothing's changed has it?
everything's still the same.
you're still a *******.

so, as a *******,
you will remain . . .

I hope, one day, you change . . .
Carl Webb II Jul 2018
I went to sleep
(right next to you)
alone.

Then I woke up and I was still
(right next to you)
alone.

I wanted to check my phone.
(no texts from you)
I'm still alone.

I want you home.
(what's left of you?)
I know, I know, I got
(the best of you)
issues, I'm wrong.
(what's best for you?)

But, I just want to know
(the rest of you)
if you'll come home.
Carl Webb II Jul 2018
at the edge of the abyss, these rugged bones have found a home.
at least, for now.
a time to rest. although, alone is what is best to just reflect,
the edge is sitting next to nothingness disguised as flesh and breath.

o', what a test. must reflect.

reflection staring into cores of this detest.
must reflect.

into the cores of this existence. into origins of sentence.
finding ways away from mischief, while the edge is in the distance

run away and run away. never stay.
for, it is not for resting.
only for the blessing. learn a lesson.
never stress and never stay.
just run away.
for, it is not for resting.
Carl Webb II Jul 2018
Leave me in the woods
and watch the grass
grow over my feet.
Place me on a cloud
and look at where I land.
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