For matching socks;
I meet my train, asymmetrically dressed.
‘Improbable as it may be, the day still has a few indignities left.’
- Colson Whitehead, The Colossus of New York
Is it my body you wish to plant
Your flag & lay claim to
Looking for buried treasure
Hoping to unearth riches
Beyond your wildest imagination
Trying to discover what men before
You have failed to possess
Rummaging through what used
To be a Holy temple
A place of innocence
Unfortunately,those men before you
Stole every ounce of that
There is nothing left of me here...
I Am But A Hollow Shell
A Metophor Of A Woman Giving So Much While Men Take And Leave When They Get Bored,Leaving Her Feeling Worthless & Empty
I'm panting, I'm waiting
hoping and praying
that my efforts will finally be paid..
I'm wishing and thinking
"please luck be efficient"
working my life away...
I enter the rink,
with one punch I drop to my knees
blood streaming down my nose,
but I've worked too hard to settle for the broke life..
I'm sick of rummaging the fridge to not be able to grant food,
my stomach loud and hungry,
but there's nothing I can do..
So I take this shot,
yearning for the best,
all I want is to live free of debt.
Not be able to know what it feels like for your rent to be late,
but to live comfortably without the worry of money.....
I'm rummaging through my messy-closet mind for the choice bits of delectable emotional pain
The agony that come from being the complex and bitter soul I am
But I'm not finding any
I'm actually fairly happy.
Not floating on clouds, or manic, or bursting with energy.
Just... pretty good. Quite alright.
This isn't good for poetry.
Or self pity.
What do I do now?
My life is just SO mildly, boring-ly difficult rn. My mental stability is driving me crazy!
What did I just say?