patch boy
by ThedominiqueofregressioN
I was running out of ideas,
not about the ones that could work
but the ones that would surely
let me live a little in the midst of it all.
I am caught between my crazy thoughts
and the standard procedures they
keep on prescribing to everyone
while none of theirs really worked out.
Whenever I smoke inside the bathroom,
there's this big mirror on the wall
with the size of the modern flat TV screens
like the one you have in your living room.
I see myself in it, deformed, defeated,
clueless and occasionally mad about how
I couldn't live at any moment;
always crawling like a bug while carefully
avoiding being stomped by the bigger fellows
from the who-knows heavens above.
If I was a bird, I'd be aware that my wings are clipped
and if I was God, I'll know how to keep my subjects
subjugated-fairly.
Oh how I destroyed myself with lots of porn
in the internet. Other than the self-inflicted pleasure,
I confess that it did get me through being completely
insane with how fast the world moves,
how it forgets that a person can only bear
a couple of things all at once though
on the other hand it destroys more than
it mends.
Don't get the wrong idea, I am not alone, physically.
I have tried countless approach, methods, ways
for whatever the day wants me to shapeshift
myself into, just to reach the most
fitting, the most becoming form in order to
get on the next day while surviving the traps
laid by the worries imbued in me by my upbringing.
My mouth as well as my mind is all dried up
to blame even an innocent rock for all the things
I keep running into, therefore I just embrace the spikes,
rush to the fall, crash to the wall and intentionally drown
while knowing there is no other way to escape any of this
but to run mindlessly towards my problems
that has different shapes and sizes.