*******.
why don't more people read and respond
to my poetry?
am i doing something wrong?
am i not good enough?
am i fake,
do i miss it more times than i hit?

this thing feels so real to me
and maybe
a select group of other peers--
but am i just greedy?
i read other poets on this site,
and let's be honest,
some of them are ****.

but i like
some others
and i try to engourage
these talented few

but when some fourteen year old has 257 fans
and she's not a REAL poet
that ****** me off

i know
'everyone has something to say'
but some of it's not relevant
or even coherent

and 'one man's trash is another man's treasure'
is a ******* gimmick if i've ever heard one

and i don't ******* understand that.

i know i shouldn't be looking
for anyone elses' approval,
i should just write
whatever the ****
comes into my head,
but maybe i'm a selfish *******
and the viewership of other poets
really means something to me

you all know
what this feels like,
i'm sure

i just signed in
and i have 168 'notifications'
AND NOT ONE OF THEM IS FOR MY OWN WORK.

am i needy?
am i feeling unworthy
of my own 34 fans?
do i feel misunderstood?

seriously?
sometimes i feel
like
joining this site
was a sick joke
on the part of my consciousness
sometimes i feel
like an amputee in
a three-legged race.





(you'd think that i could find solace
in real friends that are interested in poetry,
but those people don't exist for me)

Lost in a whirlwind of total confusion,
I don't understand, is this an illusion?
I groggily drag myself to a mirror,
and wait for my reflection to get clearer.

Explosions of sound go off in my head,
strange images appear in shades of red,
my reflection instills a feeling of dread
as I drag myself off to bed.

There's needles pricking at my skin,
as creatures squirm around within;
the confines of my mind are breached,
hysteria has been reached.

I claw at my skin to subdue the needles,
I scream as my room is filled with beetles,
inside I know this is all an illusion,
but my brain refuses that conclusion.

The air in my lungs feels like fire,
I feel I'm drowning as I perspire,
but as quick as the onset,
the effects expire,
and I'm left to ponder,
what the hell just transpired!?

Call a                          doctor/ plumber/ priest
My heart is               broken/ leaking/ deceased
My life is                   worthless/ so much better/ over
I'm going to              **** myself/ tell your wife/ Dover
How could you         leave me/ not know/ lie?
I hope you                return my stuff/ come back/ die
I'll never                   forget you/ forgive you/ go away
I need                        closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay
Your                           face/ crotch/ top of your back
Is                                so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack
Your                           ex/ mother/ best friend from school
Always made me      great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool
I will                           miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever
That way we can      be friends/ get away with it/ be together
I'm sorry                   you did this/ I did this /we failed
I promise to               pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't               leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call

(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)