#inability
Ink soaked in despise and despair,
thoughts bewildered and perplexed.
Parched soul,
a distinctive flair.
Faint and feeble brightness,
an outstanding dazzled affair.
Stitched up hopes,
with an astounding glare.
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 8:54 AM UTC
I’ve been scarred from head to toe so many times, it’s impossible to tell the old me from my recent history
My mind scarred from disease
My feet from anxiety
My hands from guilt
My stomach from impurities
My heart scarred from betrayal, never to trust again
My ears from stupidity that never fails to turn on me
My face from insomnia
My arms from inability
My gut from fear
My shoulders from loneliness
My fists from fights
My eyes from violence
My knees from failure
My bones from pain
My ankles from weakness
My reputation from mistakes
And my soul from these dark clouds that refuse to fade...
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 11:48 AM UTC
I failed
Not because
Unable to read
His face.
I failed
Because he is not one,
In fact Many
Trapped inside a case.
Ajay Amitabh Suman
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
He's a crystal glass sitting on the kitchen table,
and he's sliding off 'cause the legs are too unstable.
So he shatters on the floor,
like so many times before,
the boy weeps.
Now I tell him to pick himself up and get on the table,
and he tells me he can't 'cause the legs are too unstable.
But he's just too small,
that's really all,
holding him back.
So I tell him to be the legs for the kitchen table,
'cause I didn't do my job and I couldn't be his savior.
I tried to hold him up,
but I let him down,
and I can't bear to tell him that it's my fault he's on the ground.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
i spend my days lying down, motionless
for hours, staring at this too familiar ceiling
i spend my days doing nothing, brought by
a crippling inability to speak what I mean
or do what I wish (on things that matter
most to myself)
i spend my days reacting to your slightest movement,
with a doll's passivity bordering on disgusting
i spend my days being a mere watcher, a witness
to the wonder of how beauty grows
you are a sight to behold
and it must be such joy to be held
but i'd rather spend my days lying down, motionless
trying **** hard to dream of you
(but only nightmares come through)
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
An animal shriek
in the snowiest silence
is swallowed by eyes deep and brown,
not like mine.
Which're shallow and icy and
clouded with Sundays
shrugged off of shoulders
from peak down to plain.
These mornings are silent,
constructed from cinder blocks;
skeletal, rusting--yet inwardly
wailing.
Why in the world can't I set those shouts free
when the achiest Mondays release
all their caltrops
and I stagger through work weeks
on sore, shredded feet?
It's because of the way
that your shrieks echo off
of my wrought iron eyelids
when frost fills your veins.
It's because of the way
that I melt every Thursday
and wash down the side
of the night in cold sheets.
I can't shout out loud
and I can't melt the quiet
that screams from the mountains
to snow on the prairie below.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
The floor is a mess,
clothes and papers scattered about.
No need to look at the rest,
please do not shout.
She's lost what mattered most,
him, her, them, they.
The shine her tousled hair, lost,
and gray clouds are her vision okay?
So please do not judge her inability to leave bed,
or her waist that's shrinking by the day.
Please just think about what you just read,
and fix her the right way.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
each night I'm slowly dying
chocking on words I can’t say
racing from my brain
through my body until
they reach the edges of my fingers
the bottoms of my feet
the tip of my tongue
only to stay there and linger
unable to escape
unable to disappear from within
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
You thought you could love, but darling.
You are the Arctic Ocean.
— 3.05.14
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
in order to make it home safely,
i need to reach the end of this hallway.
in order for me to move forward,
i need to reach the end of this hallway.
in order for me to become a better person,
i need to reach the end of this hallway.
in order for me to understand myself,
i need to reach the end of this hallway.
in order for me to do just about anything, really,
i need to reach the end of this hallway.
but i never do.
in fact, the most i've ever managed
is just a few steps
before i freeze in my tracks, unable to keep going.
it confused me at first,
but like anything else in life,
all i had to do was connect the dots
to realize why i always get stuck there.
if only you'd move.
if only you wouldn't take residence
at the end of this hallway,
staring at me quietly from the opposite side.
if only you'd turn around,
even if just for a moment,
so that i might dash forth before you look at me again,
as if it were a game of "red light, green light."
but you don't.
you never move.
you never turn around.
you simply observe me from afar,
waiting for the day where i'll be able to move
forward
on my own
even in your presence.
sorry to say, but
i'm not quite sure when
or if
that day will ever come.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
It's funny:
Until now I couldn't imagine dependency on substances.
I didn't know how to imagine addiction.
Couldn't imagine a Routine in Smoke
But for the first time I got just to the edge--
went only a bit beyond.
And then I forgot.
I forgot to worry
my head like a puff of cottonwood
I didn't even have a backburner on
Simmering the responsibility
the inability
the fragility
of my self.
When I woke up it was back.
I had worry rushing to fill my head because it had
to make up for Lost Time.
and i wish i never had to stop Losing Time.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC