#nomotivation
I don't write anything
Unless I have to
And even then I hold myself to ridiculous standards
Every word must be an opus
Every line must touch some place deep
My mind falters at every step
******* journal entries are written for an invisible eye
Nothing is enough for human consumption
Not this
Not anything after
It all melts in my hand
And seeps back into my body
Words never said
Dissociation is veiled upon
A vacant face and body
Waiting to be revived
Feb 16, 2020
Feb 16, 2020 at 12:15 AM UTC
I could do this,
I should try that!
Observe,
Learn,
I contemplate,
Overcomplicate.
Collect my thoughts—
They congregate,
A few debate,
They all at once reverberate,
all at once...
Can't keep their pace.
I give up the chase.
.............
Sorry, lost my place.
.............
Or should I say,
My mind's misplaced.
Can't gain any motivation,
Apathy is all I'm tasting,
It's grown from a lack of patience.
A thought once cradled as exaggeration;
Procrastination's forced its own invasion,
Imagination's lobe is vacant.
Formed a shell of words,
Seeking validation.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 6:37 AM UTC
Sometimes I over drink.
Oops I mean overthink.
Ah **** it, it's the same **** thing.
I over pour my glass leaving no room for coke.
The voice repeating in my head of the last words you spoke.
You ask why I'm self destructive but the truth is I dont know.
I'm starting to think that the devil is a lie.
The only evil we see is what we bury inside.
I'm going to lose to myself, it's only a matter of time.
I'm starting to get lazy and just copy and paste,
All the words that went nowhere so they don't go to waste.
Maybe i'm just over this **** and need a change of pace.
I have a lot to say but a lot remains unspoken.
My creativity is asleep and dares not be woken.
I write what I feel but my pencil needs sharpened.
This used to keep my demons from making a revival.
Now when I write it's like I dont even try at all.
I dont know how to escape this so I live in denial.
What's left to say that I haven't already said?
The devil lives inside of me it's inside my head.
I'm thinking it's time to introduce my brain to some ******* lead.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
Hello?
Um...
What day is it?
Is that the sun?
What time is it?
Well, I need to know!
I slept far too long!
...Or not enough?
Should I go back to sleep?
What did I have to do?
Oh. I remember. Right!
How do I do all that?
I'd rather just lie here.
Hmm.
What was that dream about...
Ya!
That one!
I miss it.
Well...
I think I'll return there.
Enjoy your dream,
I'll enjoy my reality.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
so there’s something that’s been bothering me
i conjure up these thoughts and they never go away
all my friends are doing so great and i’m so proud
with one being so smart they could do anything
another already having a college look at them
and someone who’s going places with their acting
after looking at them you’ll stumble upon me
someone who realized they weren’t happy with what they were doing and ended it
yeah it sounds great but now i have nothing
colleges like when they see you were a star quarterback in high school
or are at the top of your class
people say if you haven’t found your talent
its not that is not there it’s just that you haven’t discovered it
but i don’t think that applies to me
i should’ve found it by now
i’m losing motivation and sleep over this
and there’s only so much anyone can do
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
Not with a smile spread across my lips
Or an energetic laugh
Making my two friends holler with joy
As I spill out a witty remark.
But rather
With downcast eyes
Glaring at the shadowed pavement
Hoodie dangling from my shoulder
Stack of binders desperately trying to slip from my grip.
The moon beginning to make its descend
Behind the towering bus stop
Teenagers huddling around each other
Whispering into the muggy dawn.
My brain fuddling with sleep deprivation
I was always exhausted
Nothing satisfied my body
Not the ambitions
Pumping in my veins
Strolling down the bustling streets
Of the city that never sleeps
Committed to land a position
As a front page writer
For the New York Times.
This routine of waiting
For a dream so far out of my reach
Is monotonous.
A cycle I can't quit
Even if I was granted the choice
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC
Imagine being in the middle of class and an elephant sits on your chest
Now take that feeling multiply it by Ten and try taking a test....
You take the test in spite of the feeling and you try your best......another F
Relax Its just a test...right
They say we need help, but most of us wont admit
Those who wont say, are barely able
They say we're not like the rest
That we're not stable...
Maybe they're right
But how would you act if you could feel the Tick Tock of Time-bomb twisting inside your chest
Night after Night, you sit down and force yourself to do whats expected of you
Finally finished hours later retreating to your safe place for a few
Only to be summoned and bombarded with harsh words about the things you didn't do
You feel the twisting intensify, clenching your chest as you're almost thrown to your knees
Your mind is filled with things to say and to scream...
but you can't speak
all you can do is hide...
hide from life and the things that trigger those feelings
all you can think about is how to avoid experiencing them
Day after Day avoiding possible triggers
Always throwing in the towel early, only ever giving Ten percent
It's a shame...all the wasted potential
Just imagine, instead of hiding if you could fight back
Day after Day finally conquering the struggle that held you back for so long
Always giving 110 percent no matter how difficult, to try to keep control of the Beast that rules your life
But you're still left really only giving 10 percent
Because the other hundred is still attempting to hold the Beast so you can think
In these battles with yourself your always left on the brink of destruction
Like a hundred internal volcanic eruptions
Melting away all your motivations
until there's nothing left
And don't think that this is all just me pretending
Because My Beast is the reason this poem has no ending
-Jim Foutch
8/30/2014
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC