I used to criticize
Of those I knew
Drops of a hat
Shed tears of ardor: God-knows-what.
To vitamins and lack thereof,
Past, present and/or too much ‘love’.
Too something/something out of balance;
Nothing but a prevalence
Of yin or yang
On both those ducts.
Uncaring and unfeelingly – I used to be.
Now, at eighty-three it’s me.
I may need hormone therapy.
Or is it age sagacity -
Based on a grasp of life’s chimere
That takes in all -
An all which makes one engineered
One must defer to.
Unmotivated Tears 4.24.2018 I Is Always You Is We; Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Aging; Arlene Corwin
to go out
It's curried fried eggs
Saturday alone on a love seat
for two with my roommate
plucking away at twisted nickel
across the room.
a maybe Monday.
My clean laundry's a footrest
for ***** feet fresh off the
almost autumn asphalt.
Come visit us.
Be unshowered and unmotivated
on this maybe Monday.
Don't worry, the door's unlocked.
There's just a few hundred
flamingos waiting to get in,
but they should move
at the sound of your unshowered,
unmotivated, maybe Monday footsteps
It's 2:54 PM and I haven't done ****.
The back up with
A crooked neck bent
While his lips tightened sternly
as a Victorian urn.
His face barely recognizeable
ever since the penny-doppler showered
A wandering click
no birds on his fence.
In a glass paned massacre, forever fossilized
between childhood bullies and prom-night feel-ups,
there was a consciousness that feigned
once a week, cockled in creationism and the Eucharist.
His passions -- clam shells flanked by the ripping tide.
His intellect -- a solitary warble amid ***** blue notes.
She lays on her bed,
Blinking at her ceiling,
Running from the sun,
Haven't been writing much. Haven't been feeling it, nothing exciting happening in my life at the moment, no inspiration.
You go on your own
But you don't want to
Its crowded and loud
And the groaning and moaning
Only serves to dishearten you
You're told that is good to go
But the pain your body feels
Tells you that's not so
You can leave if you want
But you don't want to appear weak
When you finally decide to quit
Your body beaten down and sore
There is no sense of accomplishment
Just the nagging pain in your limbs
That tells you you can't take much more
You shuffle your feet
As you head to the door
Trying not to show any pain
And concentrating on not falling to the floor
As you get into your car
Why did I join a gym?
i am a plastic bag floating upon the waves of an ocean
simply allowing them to carry me wherever i am destined to go
Unmotivated by society,
Bored of this sobriety.
Let's go eye to eye and see,
Every single side of me.
Because without some thorough inspection,
Emotion goes by
Forgive and forget,
All that you can.
For without you,
I feel like I'm ******.
A forgotten man,
In a desolate land.
Has only one want
And that's to be yours,
Within this life span.
I wake up every morning with this feeling of dread
Can't escape this groggy feeling left in my head
So I continue to just lay here in my bed
I don't even get up to eat I just sleep here instead
I lay and decompose as my skin starts to shed
Wasting away all the blood that I have bled
My arms dangling off the side drenched in red
My existence is pointless I might as well be dead
I don't care about anything I'm unmotivated this feeling embed
Sew my eyes and my mouth shut with needle and thread
Tie me down and pump my stomach with meds
Take a gun to my skull and fill me with lead
My sin is sloth you haven't misheard and you havent misread
I'm not okay don't believe those lies you've been fed
My deadly sin.
A highly unmotivated
I think I'll go down
2 pairs of shorts
And some socks
Perhaps some boxers
Maybe then I'll go read
The Bible in the nature park
America is doomed
just because you have a degree it makes you no smarter then me
just because you have no ink on your skin that doesn't make you clean of sin
just because you have white skin it doesn't make you better then anyone
just because you can quote the bible your still far from a prophet
just because you wear a suit in no way are you better then a fast food worker
just because your bank account has 6 digits that doesn't make you above the law
just because your homeless with no place to sleep that doesn't make you worthless
just because you work fast food that doesn't make you unmotivated
just because of the way you look that doesn't make you evil
just because you feel empty that doesn't mean this is the end
just because you take a different path that doesn't make you a failure
The price of being a decent human being is 0.00 hate will only **** us and separate us
He was the warrior king.
He was known for being strong.
He was Mogar.
Shallow breaths passed through his lips.
Hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Arms wrapped tightly around him.
Knees pulled close to his chest.
He tried to hold himself together.
How did he get here?
Unable to laugh or smile.
Unmotivated and unfocused.
Unable to sleep or eat.
An empty shell.
Devoid of all emotion but one:
He was ashamed.
Ashamed he couldn't push through.
Ashamed he wasn’t strong enough.
Ashamed that he was broken
He was the warrior king.
capable but unmotivated,
love being different, hate being misunderstood,
impulsive long term planner.
strange mix of super private and open book.
rational yet unrealistic.
great at giving advice, bad at following it.
arrogant, but painfully aware of my flaws
sure of myself, yet unassuming
rigorous yet care-free,
perpetual loner with tons of friends.
energetic but lazy,
sensitive, yet cold hearted
gregarious yet studious,
intelligent but spacey,
personal, yet detached.
unhealthy, yet understanding therapist,
The optimist who just wants to see the world burn.
Where do I fit in?
Curses of an ENTP
— The End —