"anig" poems
Av hysteri jeg skriker flammer og håret reiser seg i lynets dødelige knekte streker.
En halvveis setning, en ikke ferdiggjort fasong.
Elektrisk knust glass fyller mine nesebor og nåler sikker ut av øynene.
Jeg er så død som djevlen selv.
Jeg vrir meg under bakken og mine bein, ja, hele mitt skjelett er dømt til å bli gift som etser gjennom alt som kommer anig. Som syre i mitt blod vrir årene seg i smerte i mine iskalde fingre.
Å være greit å ikke gjøre ferdig.
Det er absurd! Min smerte eier ikke grenser.
Å roe seg at alt er dårlig.
Å roe seg med alt som er så usselig.
Det er umulig når jeg selv vet at mitt eget beste er noen andres aller verste.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 6:56 AM UTC
"Without you, I’m incomplete,
I wave my white flag,
Because my heart and my pride faces defeat,
I gave every last thing I had,
And I either came up a penny short,
Or even a dollar more,
Either way, you’re not here anymore,
I shed tears hoping that heartbreak would escape,
But as I wake up,
I still try to make up,
Reasons why I should be over you,
I’m older than you,
But you control me,
I think it’s safe to say that you own me,
I haven’t been honest with myself,
I’ve tried to convince myself,
That I’ve put everything from the past on the top shelf,
But we talked last night,
And I realized that I lied,
Because when I found out about your new guy,
And my heart beamed from the sky,
And penetrated through the pavement,
So as we spoke,
I sat sit crushed and broke,
My lips trembled and my eyes made lakes deep enough to stoke,
Across,
Just in case you want to come back,
Nostalgia got me,
And I’m alright with that,
Because I enjoyed you,
And the feelings that were associated,
I just wish I could’ve negotiated,
A plan to make stay,
Because I’m tired of not having a reason to wake up everyday."
-Glenn Fullmore
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC