Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
we've all been hit one too many times with information we couldn't process and then three to eight days later you're sitting in class or another insignificant coffee shop trying to calculate how many ways you could die by fourpm when your clockwork mess of neuron pathways finally catches up and then- your hands are shaking and you can't tell if it's the day old coffee or the information that has finally stuck long enough for you to realize it for what it is and the words that brought everything down around you are rattling in your rotten skull making it pound and you can't ignore it anymore (it's not the coffee) bad news has a way of tearing down every cleverly placed brick and marble wall until your core is exposed and everything you thought you knew so well means **** all and there is never someone standing by, red alert, when it finally hits so you're on your own kid because not even mom realizes that your movements are stiff and your eyes are red and not even mom realizes that you haven't slept in four days and you've started wearing long sleeves again the coffee is cold and you're placing bets ("my brother is missing") on how many days it will take for your hands to shake
0
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
"911, what is your emergency?"
we've all been hit one too many times with information we couldn't process and then three to eight days later you're sitting in class or another insignificant coffee shop trying to calculate how many ways you could die by fourpm when your clockwork mess of neuron pathways finally catches up and then- your hands are shaking and you can't tell if it's the day old coffee or the information that has finally stuck long enough for you to realize it for what it is and the words that brought everything down around you are rattling in your rotten skull making it pound and you can't ignore it anymore (it's not the coffee) bad news has a way of tearing down every cleverly placed brick and marble wall until your core is exposed and everything you thought you knew so well means **** all and there is never someone standing by, red alert, when it finally hits so you're on your own kid because not even mom realizes that your movements are stiff and your eyes are red and not even mom realizes that you haven't slept in four days and you've started wearing long sleeves again the coffee is cold and you're placing bets ("my brother is missing") on how many days it will take for your hands to shake
although you can't exactly call the police on a wanted criminal
sheridan
Written by
21/Non-binary
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem