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I almost feel sorry for what I'm going to do And your hair smells of smoke Who will cast the first stone? You can sin ...
Poems
I S A A C Feb 2022
cultural burnout
I S A A C
Feb 2022
cultural burnout, the hurt bubbling up
cannot put a lid on it any longer
the feelings keep getting stronger
my muscles ache, my brain is dazed
cultural burnout, the days slip away
the workweek is all I know
I barely ever leave my home
no escape, no break
inside the cage, this lake
cannot put a lid on it any longer
the feelings keep getting stronger
my muscles ache, my brain is dazed
cultural burnout, the days slip away
the workweek is all I know
I barely ever leave my home
no escape, no break
inside the cage, this lake
Matthew Harlovic Oct 2014
Burnout
Matthew Harlovic
Oct 2014
They say I’m a burnout,
they say I’m brain-dead
but I’m proud I turned out,
with a light above my head.
© Matthew Harlovic
they say I’m brain-dead
but I’m proud I turned out,
with a light above my head.
© Matthew Harlovic
Adam Carrillo Jun 2017
Workout for a Burnout
Adam Carrillo
Jun 2017
White powder on an iPhone case
Black coffee to mask the taste
Rolled bills against my face
Usually no one keeps pace
Sometimes I believe I've gone insane.
My allies made over a pile of *******.
Veins burning awaiting more.
Eyes sore, but my feet seem to slide over the floor.
Heart pounding, nerves firing.
Tiring, not exhausting.
A workout for the burnout.
I have few hopes as to what I’ll turn out.
Only a mind away.
Numb, but alive.
I only feel what I'm prescribed
I’ll press on, needle to a record.
**** that.
I’m digital, my ideas, critical.
I’ll wake up each day with an eye for new breath.
I’ll keep moving forward, alone or in union, i’ve got a plan, and I’m gonna seek it.
Brick by brick, my world, I’ll build it.
Black coffee to mask the taste
Rolled bills against my face
Usually no one keeps pace
Sometimes I believe I've gone insane.
My allies made over a pile of *******.
Veins burning awaiting more.
Eyes sore, but my feet seem to slide over the floor.
Heart pounding, nerves firing.
Tiring, not exhausting.
A workout for the burnout.
I have few hopes as to what I’ll turn out.
Only a mind away.
Numb, but alive.
I only feel what I'm prescribed
I’ll press on, needle to a record.
**** that.
I’m digital, my ideas, critical.
I’ll wake up each day with an eye for new breath.
I’ll keep moving forward, alone or in union, i’ve got a plan, and I’m gonna seek it.
Brick by brick, my world, I’ll build it.