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Danny Adams Oct 2013
I let an object take control of my life
as palahniuk would put it
my possessions have possessed me
but this thing is not my possession
this thing is everyone's
the internet has completely swallowed and devoured me
and now my existence has become a faceless identity in the vast majority
a sea of people who merely live
day by day
what do I do?
do I create?
why does it matter?
it matters to me
and no one else
i am alone
and in my loneliness I find
that my mind
is incredibly
empty
Danny Adams Oct 2013
I don't know what to do with my life right now
I am an abstract thought fleeting from my mind
And every aspect of me is running away faster and faster each minute
Each second each hour each ******* day
I can feel myself slipping away
When you're a kid
You don't think about this type of ****
You just live
Life is life
C'est la vie
The French have a word for every ******* feeling
I swear it
If only I could speak French maybe
it'd make writing poetry a bit easier
But it will never get easier
Because poetry is life
And with each word you extend yourself
You extend the years to come with this poem
A single poem
A single stansa
A single
Word

And within that word a thought can sprout
But with water and time that thought can become work
And with work and effort you give birth
To a beatiful ******* poem
Filled to the brim with emotion
and strength
and power
and fear
and loss
and hope
and dreams
and pride
and envy
every sin in the **** book
written onto a blank white page
You dissected yourself before a crowd
And you open and pull your guts out to only have them shoved back in
by ungrateful
undeserving
undead
flesh eaters
because thoughts are the flesh of your brain
the meat
and the words are the substance
the minerals of this poem
the good
And they may taste bitter and they may come out hard
but when they sit in the stomach of your reader
and digest
and crumble and decay
and die again
and again
and again
you live
you become the eternal worm
you become the everlasting fruit
you become the demon that your parents and your pastors
and your lovers and your friends and your family
and your pets and your dreams and your ******* thoughts warned you about
because knowledge is power
and power corrupts
and thinking is evil
so be a villain in the most beautiful sense of the phrase
and live and please
please live
longer than this poem ever will
Danny Adams Oct 2013
What drives men to do such terrible things?
Am I exempt from such a judgment?
From chaos given and innocence stolen
This world is hellbent

On suffering,
One writes
to be left
On misery
one night
is enough
On loneliness
Oh, how I greet it

With open palms raised to the sky
Tonight is a fine night to die
My belly full of pills
Only prescribed
By men and women
Garnished in white
Oh, this will help me sleep
with kings and counselors
For if you look too long,
bloodshot eyes,
The abyss will grab you from your home
Ode to joy
Hallowed be thy name

My eyes burn as I grip this pencil
And an odd smell lingers in this room
The smell of sterilization.
The smell of cleanliness.
The smell of godliness.

It's far too white here
It's far too bright, I fear
I fear for these students
Fellow and brave
Taking this test
While I'm painting my cave

My cave is solitude and I have picked it out from it's mountain
Rocks fell soon thereafter
Now I cannot leave
This was my choice
But I have one regret

I wish I could have stood still
and been crushed to my death
Much like Giles Corey
I am a sinner
More weight, he cried out
From his pressing board
And much like me, his please were ignored
What drives man to do such terrible things?
Passion, my friend
The same passion for which
I sing

— The End —