perhaps it was that little motion
one singular word read
perhaps it was the endless
click clack of the keys
whatever it was
my mind’s stuck
for whatever reason,
individual thought cannot sprout
for the time being,
i attempt poems with no metaphors
poems with no style
bland and unappealing,
but at least they’re poems
i wait for the return of my
creative plants
maybe they are not in season
and i must wait for them again
i read and write
but with no purpose behind them
no drive or spark
to paint the pictures that i wish to express
weeds of static have taken place
of my storytelling and imagery flowers
they sprout in the wrong places
they do not let me think
perhaps
i have trapped myself in this position
subconsciously forcing my mind back into
submissive monotony
maybe tomorrow
i will be unstuck

my name is ace
i am seven years old
i want to be a writer one day!
i really don’t have many friends,
but i love books and that’s enough for me
bzzt
my name is ace
i am ten years old
i’ve written my first narrative!
even though i stayed up past my bedtime
i got an a+ and got to read it in front of my class
they kinda laughed at me,
but my teacher was proud so that’s all that matters
it kind of hurt that they didn’t like it though
bzzt
my name is ace
i am twelve years old
maybe i don’t want to be a writer?
everyone else wants to be
a doctor, or a veterinarian
we’re not allowed to write narratives in class anymore
the school told us to write essays about the american revolution instead
bzzt
my name is ace
i am fourteen years old
i laugh when people mention writing
what an impractical dream!
to be a writer is to sacrifice your heart and soul
for no profit
writing?
i vaguely remember doing that
i still do want to become an author
but i am so scared of reaching for my dream
that i have boxed it away
stored it in a closet
and now it lies abandoned
bzzt
my name is…?
i am…?
i have lost my sense of identity
in refusing myself
my dreams have left me
my eyes are blank
bzzt
my name is 203948
i am 45 years old
i lost myself to society long ago
i sacrificed my individualism
for becoming “normal”
my personality is programmed into
my actions and brain through
how others think of me
i do not resist
i cannot write any longer

accept your defeat
the defeat of your sanity,
your love,
your individualism.
say goodbye to your dreams
succumb to nostalgia: the only thing
that makes you feel some sort of accomplishment
congrats for growing up
congrats for molding yourself into a repetitive world
congrats on lowering yourself to become normal
congrats! you’ve made it
you have everything you’ve ever wanted besides
the future you’d aspired to gain
lose yourself to a mindless future
let your consciousness be caught in the river of societal expectations
doubt any free thought that you might have
parrot the words of those smarter than yourself
there you go
now you’re the perfect citizen
well done
on your way out,
be sure to grab a pamphlet on how to beat down
those who are different!
thank you, and have a nice day

skies collide with the horizon, the explosion releasing vivid colors beyond imagination
beneath this silent conflict lies humanity! a small, insignificant force that likes to think it's doing something
despite the strange lack of free will hidden in their consciousness

admiring the aesthetic of the world
and calling it the work of a god
experimenting with these things they call feelings
finding what boosts certain chemicals in their brains
and calling it love
destroying the world
and making it their own
despite it not being any better than the original

individuals who try to write a better history
are rejected by a void of ears who do not understand
the importance of their words
quiet eyes stare blankly at their screens and their textbooks
impressionable minds stamped with the mark of society's own brainwashed

no one addresses the flaws
they are tucked down low
so no one can find them
the children
who still think
they are stamped with defective
forced into schools
round pegs trying to fit into square holes
forced in submission
by the people

humanity!
according to them, the best thing that has ever happened on earth

i am a self conscious robot in a sleeping society
a single person against many
i realize my monotonous days are being spent as a waste
i realize my blatant apathy is taken as acceptance
to live in a world of grays and repetitiveness

if i pulled my heart out of my chest,
you would find nothing of worth
but if you pulled my brain out of my head,
flourishing ideas are sprouting
despite the hard soil that it grows in
they are planted in the basis of society
and continue to grow due to individual thought
not many refuse to parrot back the words of the past
and try to write the future

"respect your elders, they are wiser than you"
we have grown up on decades of
teaching children on how to be quiet
creative minds are silenced
yet i continue to go to school
and do the work expected

i realize all the faults
but what can one person do?

would it have been easier if
we hadn't touched the tips of our paintbrushes into the deep puddles of our secrets and paint them out into 3 am portraits?
i hadn't flung my heart out into the greedy sea that is your soul?
our surrendering of ourselves to each other hadn't ended in a glorious catastrophe of flaming tears and betrayed smiles?

would it have been easier if we had never met?

i should have carved the poison out of my soul when it was first fresh and new
but now, even though im choking on my own blood,
i still love the taste

you helped mold me to be this way,
although it was my fault for being so pliant,
you forced me into a machine with impulsive decisions and faucet eyes, a robot with all the negative emotions
and then you threw me away, because im a defect
number 0-01, the first failure out of many
later you'll finally create the one that is lovable
without thinking twice about the ones you broke

my words may sound like a lover's heartbreak
a snapping between two worlds
but the only love here is between life and myself
life plays the role of the abusive partner, pushing and pulling whenever it seems fit
controlling my world and my body like puppet strings
i let it because it was what knew best for me, right?
because filling my body with liquid fire and sticks of smoke is the only way out?
because im too hopeless and terrified to make my own path, to forge a new future, and rely on life's arm to guide the way
and as i do so i watch silently as death comes to take those around me, drifting further and further away for each fallen
i watch as i die in front of myself
and the shell that is left is only a fragment of my mind

unfortunately,
i fall too hard and too fast
hurtling from the top of my dignity to the unrelenting floor of rejection
without even saying a word a switch snaps and my heart
flings itself into the claustrophobic abyss of love
but love is such a pretty word for such a corrupt ideal
love has become my chains
and the target of my affection becomes my jailer

do not take these words to your heart because they do not mean much at all
simply the ramblings of a madman

i burn myself down in order to maintain the single bit of control i have
for in a world with unpredictable factors, what am i to do besides destroy?
creation leads only to death
to keep my sanity i tear it to shreds
to keep my feelings i torture my thoughts
to keep my love i separate myself from it
to keep my heart i throw it away
i surround myself in barbed wire and run while it pierces through the skin
it tears through the flesh, but pain is a form of pleasure to the human brain

as my ribs intertwine with sickly sweet flowers, my frail form gives into wracking coughs
as my body is overtaken with the wills of the world, i smile with crimson-stained teeth
as i stare out at those i love, i clutch at the bars keeping me from them
my own consciousness cages me in within my head

unwanted and useless
unwanted because i'm an abomination
useless because i've already been used
a stepping stool for life's favored players

after my prince left,
my story became backwards
riches to rags is the way my mind went
and the final kiss forced me into a never-ending dream

to keep myself from spilling more blood into the clean white of the bathroom
i sit here instead
and tap out my sorrows into a glowing box
in hopes of relieving my teenage angst in a way that will contain the pain in my chest
and for it to not spread to my arms or my neck or my legs or my stomach

i am starved for happiness
and deprived of care
i am dreaming this life

2am thoughts.