Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2017
the sleeper in the valley is haunting me,
what I should do I haven't.
I'm a junkyard full of false starts.

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,"

:Bought a book of Ginsberg:
:Thought it quite lonely:
:Found out socrates was a *******:

I fell asleep and was dreaming the subconscious dream,
The theorem was proven and I could breathe again.

I awoke to sirens,
nymphs,
and Orpheus standing over me.

I am a small bit of nothing, a Wes Anderson caricature,
a pre-printed, pre-made, pre-packaged archetype.

I bought guitar strings from a lovely woman,
I want everyone to hear me.
Hear me play Pitseleh.

I am quiet now,
I am soft and everyone hears me.
I don't want to say anything,
I want you to look at me and know.
I want you to see my eyes and know I am infinite.

I wake up again and I am sweating,
it was the night terror, the one I have

I was surrounded by intellectuals,
the poets and artists of our generation,
all second rate ******* doing it for the applause and their mommys, same **** that was always done, since ******* Homer, since ******* Shakespeare, since ******* Ruddy Rimbaud.

I keep shaking,

Something is coming after me and I know it.

Maybe it's all the women I looked at wrongly,
one's from the ***** pictures big brother sold me,

Maybe it's all the sucrose and caffeine i've been inserting.

Maybe it's the nothings that i forgot to do, and others did instead.

I am a ******.

I never ****** no one.

******* is stupid.

I am one of the ugliest men alive.

When the saint ended us I saw infinity.

Everything was you, in you, by you, for you, the ******* hours and hours of thought, the stupid lengthy and complicated memories where you were christmas and we were meeting the ocean, all pointless and lost to oblivion and I lost it right then and there in front of you, I sobbed and wanted to **** myself. Then you gave me a *******.
Israel Baker
Written by
Israel Baker  18/M/Indianapolis, IN
(18/M/Indianapolis, IN)   
226
     --- and stΓ©phane noir
Please log in to view and add comments on poems