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A swerve and crumple

the too-low Miata meeting
the steel of a
semi's rear.

top speed impatience
becomes

a mangled massacre
of twisted plastic and metal.

Bone just powder in
a pillow of pink
red-streaked
pulverized flesh.

my jaw agape as I pass too slow-

existential dread is the hand
contorted upward
a few fingers missing
or lost in the mass-

A horn brings me back.
People too late
to care.

I contemplate stopping
but I'm late too-
and there's nothing to salvage
for me here.
Witnessed a brutal death today. I think I'm still processing, but writing helps. It was disturbing.
Why does it take long to write a poem?
are months consumed into few fleeting feelings?
a poem is severed.
Of feelings that need to be let go of,
a delusion of a listen,
poem doesn’t listen,
what does it do?
An appearance for
no purpose,
but to be outside
is like braving the wind
to tell the wind you have braved it,
is this a poem?
None of us know yet.
Mounting feelings in an abandon,
a poem deceives,
and leaves them for dead,
for forgetfulness is eternal,
and the rest rot in several lifetimes,
but the burden?
Unburden, eventually?
The poem is ******,
Can we let go of it at all?
It persists.
We let them know we were there,
to come face to face with selves of us,
that we have avoided,
does the poem really look out for you?
And asks, pretending you know?
Do we need no end?
We are here to while away time
and tell them
we whiled the time away.
Venn Oct 2018
(tw; existentialism)

I am intimidated by you,
though perhaps it is not you that I am intimidated by,
but simply that time seems to fly
faster than I am capable of falling in stride.
The universe is infinite
but my existence is the opposite,
limited,
and I am terrified to die.
This is a shorter piece than I normally post, but it was something I wrote a while back that I like, so I decided to post it anyway. I hope you enjoy.
Stones hinged
In jagged mystery
Behind whispered veils
And torrid grays.

A damp earth hinting
The bashful sun
bides it’s peak.

Morning is a majesty
parried
By chaotic wakes.

Hark!
The stolen kingdom!

All is Regicide;
the car
the train
the lovers quarrel

Over coffee-
A public execution.

Mysteries remain

The sun bides less
Unabashed-
Fading
with the grays.

We’ll try again
tomorrow.
An observational/existential reflection with a tinge of peace glorification. Maybe over-glorification? You tell me...
I can't imagine anything else
It feels pointless to try
I was given this
Whatever it is
Everything it is
Painful, scary, heartbreaking
Sometimes beautiful
Beautiful enough to keep me here

Continue,
Continue

There might be more
Something good
Holding out for magic
Things I felt when I was young
Before reality was cement
It feels like lifetimes ago
Ancient pain
Ancient fear and guilt and shame
I can't distinguish now from then
I am wrapped up in it
Trapped by it and caged by it
Changed by it
Chained to it
Is living truly to suffer
I see that now

Continue,
Continue
MK Ulton Oct 10
I cried unconsolably in public once.
I don’t remember why.

But people walked right past me.
Kind of like the gods when I cry to the sky.

Sometimes, I try to pray.
I’ll talk to the empty room, secretly hoping something’s listening.

I’ll cry to an empty room, hoping something is listening.
But then, I realize, the room is empty.

And my tears are falling to an indifferent world.
My tears are falling to an indifferent god.

My pain is mine alone.

And then I cry, because no one can hear me.
I cry, because I feel stupid for thinking anyone can hear me.

And then I cry harder because I come to the realization
that if someone is listening,
They’re on an invisible plane, walking right past me, watching me cry.

Sometimes, I’ll scream at the ceiling in my room.
I’ll scream, “Why, why why?”
At the things in the sky.

And I curse it. I curse every god I know.

I taunt them to take me.
I curse and scream at my existence and their ineptitude

Because I secretly hope something is listening.

Because if they take me, it means something is listening.
And if someone was listening
And I died
it means I was never alone.

But then I realize I’m pleading with an empty room.

And then I cry, because no can hear me.
I cry, because my cries for death were met with indifference

And then I realize,
That humans don’t want my pain
And the things don’t want it either  

And then I realize,
That I’m either totally alone
Or just another thing, prone to cry
To the things in the sky
MK Ulton Oct 10
I don’t want to die, but I’m indifferent to live.

I don’t want to join this cult.

But, I don’t want to leave.

They say we need purpose

But what if I was chosen not to have one?

What if my purpose is to make others feel better for having one?

At least they’re not me.

I don’t want to die, but living is not fun

It’s just navigating through things without a map, with no solid truth

And every decision affects you, except you don’t know how

And every decision is haunted with a “what if”?

And every decision is plagued with a “I should have…”

The gods won’t save you.

Psychics don’t know.

And the wise haven’t traversed your waters.

None the wiser.
MK Ulton Oct 8
It’s hard for me to grasp that I live in a world that is indifferent to my existence and there is no absolute truth.

It’s hard to navigate it.

There are things that I simply cannot control and every decision I make is plagued with uncertainty; there is no right answer, just consequences.

Sometimes, the consequences are clear. Other times, they’re not, and manifest much later.

You think you want something, but you don’t. And the only way to find out, is to do it.

You do it. You decide to give it a proper chance.

It’s not going as you hope.

But, you invested so much time and energy into it, it might not be worth throwing it all away.

But then again, maybe it might.

And by the time you do, you’re thinking you should’ve done it months ago.

So much time wasted.

Now, it’s time to try something new. But what?

You don’t trust yourself very much, because what you thought you liked, you didn’t actually end up liking. Or finishing, even.

You wasted too much time and you’re not getting it back.

If you’re going to invest time and energy into something, shouldn’t you know if it’ll be worth it?

But you don’t know.

So then, you don’t try it.

But then you realize, you should have.

And you wasted all this time doing nothing.

Back to square one.

You can’t have reward without risk.

But how do you know which risk to take?

I guess that’s why it’s called a risk, right?

But, not every risk yields a reward.

Sometimes, your best isn’t enough, right?

I mean, not everyone can be rewarded, right?

Some people are rewarded with wisdom.

But wisdom doesn’t get you very far in this world.

Sometimes, knowing too much does more harm than good.

Some people were ****** from the beginning.

You may not have been ****** from the beginning. But you haven’t left your comfort bubble.

Because you don’t trust your decisions.

Your battle is metnal.

You never feel ready.

You never feel good enough.

But you know you have to do something.

But you don’t know what.

So, you prepare yourself for something you think you might want.

But you prepare too much, to where you don’t end up doing it.

But if you under prepare, you’ll kick yourself for not preparing enough.

You should’ve waited a little longer.

Why didn’t you wait one more month?

You should’ve read that book.

Back to square one.

You’re not really religious, but you pray.

You know no one has the answers, but you ask other people that have been in your shoes.

You visit psychics.

None the wiser.

You have the answer.

But you’re festering in your own confusion.

Back to square one.
riley minteer Sep 14
shoehorn, white poppies
pockets all full of teeth
within one white whisper i swallow the key
too many pieces of pearlescent cutlery,
millions of tormented gnashing the air...

what is the culture's accepted state of satire?
what is the current world's state of affairs?
i think to myself, pondering like a child
for if i just knew i could laugh at my fears...

now i sit,
yes, i sit- in my cold echo chamber
sonic reflections, electronic lies
all my past memories calcified slowly
my skeletons lie in the back of my mind...
-riley minteer
“shoehorn”
(from “candlelight, rust & shells”)
Thursday, September 3, 2020
riley minteer Aug 15
i,
a liar,
coat my body in ashes–
just to prove that i’m not what you thought
i, a child of space and time,
lie to you coldly while smiling bright.
-riley minteer
“i, a liar”
(from “mind soul heart”)
Friday, August 14, 2020
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