#unsatisfactory
We were met on two shores
trying to get to the beach
we both knew the terminus
stood just out of reach
and we settled for us
with the thought in our heads
that if something improved
we’d move out of there.
Then the storm had subsided
and none of us cried it
was more than we’d hoped for
and mother just moped there for
days but we’ll raise her spirits
buy in more spirits and drink her a toast
while the waves belt the coast.
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 8:10 AM UTC
W*hy am I me?
I had a chance
to turn into many
But why did I get
stuck with me
this version,
there are so many bugs
I am always lagging
behind
Often I freeze midway
I am seldom muted
the voice quality
is so mediocre
the display so
unsatisfactory
why this me*?
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 1:17 PM UTC
Maybe if you were ******* me it’d be enough for you to want to marry me, and release your notion of security.
Maybe that’s what it takes. Maybe that’s why she was different.
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 11:18 AM UTC
I found out during class one day
That there’s no way to satisfy everyone
No matter what you say
Talk too much
Sullen eyes turned your way
Tucking away agreivement to mutter about later
Talk too little
They barely notice your presence
And eventually,
Slowly but surely
You’re gradually disincluded
No longer the one they think of
When they have nothing to think of you by
So where is the balance,
How do you satisfy everyone?
One can’t go about their life being apologetic
Although I’ve certainly tried
So isn’t it about time we stopped determining our self worth on what others think of us?
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Slugging outside of this imploding cube
Instantly, the air is contaminated,
And only momentarily, will I pollute the entire room,
My jangly displeasure consolidated.
I come in solely as an interior
Burying my face in my cuffs.
You look down at me as I am inferior,
Smiling, with your hands full of ashes and dust,
Of all that remains from our cremated hearts.
Your swift steps reverberates the dilapidated tiled floors
Like the hums of wishes through laboured breathing,
Like the creaking in my head from the pre-vocalizing doors.
Sinking into the essence of my sadness,
Journeying back and forth and back again.
Uncomfortably, through these conditioned doors I crawl,
To seek and assemble words,
To position them like Velcro on the polysyllabic cerebrum walls.
That will shape the size of my cuts and bruises
In undeniable places,
As a mouthful begins to cascade and fall.
Sinking in my invertebrate state,
My physical texture of life
Salutes me once again.
Of the stem of creation,
And unpleasant satisfaction,
Inside my gelatin head.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC