"boringness" poems
I walk into the mirror box again and it’s as if my life
really is just an extension of my own metaphors.
I’m caught in the mirror maze, searching for something
in the mirrors at angles, but all I can see is myself,
my sad, stupid self, stretching on and on forever
with the same boring face, the same boring feelings,
again and again until I stop being able to make out the details.
Am I looking back at myself or am I looking forwards to the future?
Will it always be the same or has it merely been
the same since forever? I stare into the mirror tunnel
at all these selves repeating themselves,
forcing the years, the weeks, the days into the same strict patterns,
merely following the self that came before them, merely mirroring
the feelings, only doing it worse and worse with each new rendition.
It’s just me, I think, *in the mirror box, caught up in myself
because I am selfish and horrible.* I’m selfish and horrible
and I want to turn my back on myself but
how can I possibly do that in the mirror box?
I meet myself over and over, and it’s just me,
in all this vast, repetitive vagueness, just me in
this long stretch of lonely unsettledness that surely doesn’t end.
I want to smash my own face in, so I close my eyes
and try to think, maybe, maybe, maybe, because I don’t
want to be this grey-cloud self forever. I can’t be, and so maybe,
just maybe, somewhere beyond all these selves
there’ll be a day when I’m down on the shore
and the sea will be calm and the sky will be
faded purple. Love will not sink down into nothingness
because in the cool evening air, my heart will be full
instead of gaping and my mind will be at ease
instead dwelling on it’s own boringness
or entangling itself in own self-created sadness.
And maybe, I’ll have abandoned my book
and its pages will be dry because I won’t have been crying into it.
They’ll be no mirrors, just the ocean,
glinting like an amethyst cluster in the half light
and I’ll rest my head on the shoulder of the girlfriend
I'll meet someday and I’ll smile in this beautiful liminal moment
and nothing will be tainted by the dread of returning home.
We’ll kiss – on the shore – and rewrite it forever and
maybe the stars will fall out of the sky when I shake it and
all my trains will run on time and all the wounds
in the world will heal simultaneously.
It’s a moment surely stolen from someone else’s poetry,
but I’ve got to cling to something to avoid becoming
lost entirely in all this dark, intangible vagueness.
There’s got to be at least one imaginary moment
that isn’t just me, reflected over and over.
There’s got to be one moment that doesn’t stare
back at me from inside the mirror box.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
FLOODED
FLOODED, THAT’S HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW
FLOODED WITH HOMEWORK
ALL THE ESSAYS AND MATH AND QUESTIONS
ALL THE PAPERS AN ASSIGNMENTS AND STUDYNG
IT’S A NEVER-ENDING FLOOD OF THINGS I HAVE TO DO
AFTER A WHILE YOUR MIND GETS FLOODED
HOMEWORK, A WAVE OF INSANITY
A TSUNAMI OF BORINGNESS
FLOODED
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
SLEEP, OH, SLEEP
Too late to sleep
Too early to be awake
Doomed in sleep’s convoluted tapestry
Sleep, oh, sleep
I swoon over you nightly
But like a glamorous young lady
You continually play hard to get
Leonard Cohen’s “deeper than a Siberian coalmine” voice didn’t sway you
The boringness of my Epidemiology lecture notes didn’t persuade you
Sleep, oh, sleep
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Drowsiness, red eyes
and a face bereft of cheerfulness
Are all that I’m left with
On this long torturous day
Many gulps of coffee won’t ensure wakefulness
An hour-long bath in hot steam won’t alleviate the lethargy
Only serene slumbers will be the panacea to the cephalalgy
Sleep,oh,sleep
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC
I. nope.
II.
long-windedness verbosity
diffuseness prolixity
wordiness rambling
circuity discursiveness
redundancy tautology
tediousness verbiage
verboseness length
longevity permanence
garrulity windiness
volubility circumlocution
expansiveness babbling
periphrasis gushing
blathering protractedness
waffling lengthiness
iteration repetition
prating prattling
jabbering digressiveness
dreariness tedium
deadliness wandering
repetitiousness repetitiveness
pleonasm convolution
logorrhoea boringness
maundering superfluity
duplication tiresomeness
monotony reiteration
gabbiness informality
mouthiness diffusion
logorrhea wordage
blah-blah dryness
dullness boredom
sameness loquaciousness
talkativeness loquacity
freeness orotundity
roundaboutness breadth
gobbledegook gassiness
wittering multiloquence
perissology big mouth
gift of the gab garrulousness
staleness tallness
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 9:38 AM UTC
driving on empty, my tank way past e
i fear the sudden stop of my car on the busy street,
Its the academy awards,
I feel so unexciting
I gymed it up, worked out hard
I am eating better and taking care of myself
subway in my tummy
clean and showered comfy in pajamas
i wonder when I will meet that guy
who will like me for me,
just as i am
and loves my boringness
wonders what i am thinking
and loves to play the question game, in an attempt to get to know the real me.
You ask, Ill tell.
where is he?
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
Women kissing each other
on cheeks the friends
meeting for coffee kind
not the passionate
let’s get to bed
and kiss
and indulge kind
but Henry wishes
the women at the coffee bar
were of that kind
just to break the boringness
of the day
just so he can get through
the hour without
the boring chitchat
of others around
on who was doing
what to whom
and who has just had
their kids in the right
kind of school
or whose husband
has made the grade
for body climbing
back stabbing promotion
oh if only
Henry thinks
that the dames
could embrace
and undress
and get down
to the woman to woman thing
right here
in the coffee bar
and he’d promise
he’d not spill a drop
of his latte
or faint
or look away.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 7:10 AM UTC
the mundane tasks set from day to day have been put in a never changing rhythm
the boringness and nothingness has overtaken everything
the depressing stupor that this life has set into has left me drifting through the motions
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
as the base, the umbilical
cordon of passion, unitying
two people
the wormth conextion, of honney
and fire, but alone, in flames.
as funeral pire, no rest, no eyes
that as a balsam, help to mitigate
the pain, that burns as loneliness
of the one who
loves in the distance, and see
in strangers eyesthye eyes of
the one not specting him, but loves
him still.
lost, incomplete, vain,
unplugged, hopeless waking
between men,
as body without soul,
as man with no heart, its in the hands
of the one, stabing his back.
is in mondegos hands,that luckily
was not needed, the dark ****
my eyes lost in apparent boringness,
nigth carries my steps, of plane
incompleteness.
assorted on mi mind,
the tantric desire, lays subsole,
as abandonned mine, in the shadow
of it.
the vain desire, scapes between
stertores, of an eternnal flame,
that never stops burning, only her
palorosa balsam, calms the
incomplete fire, tacit, vain, unconnected
while subsole, front of the seas,
they both dream, with the son
of venus, but will never
have me
in a decadent, eternal party,
where they only suffer,
for the love that cannot have
david montecinos.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Little by little
Shadow engulfs the weary soldier
As the dark drapes hide the light
The senses onced sharp
Dulled
The focus once once intense
Weakened
The confidence once large
Minisculed
As the head nods unconsciously
in succeeding rhythmic locomotion
Dozes the student
From the horrendous boringness
As the teacher shuts
the dusty only-once usage textbook closed
Marks the end of the informative torture
Awakens the knowledge searcher
From his unexpected quick slumber
Thus came night
For the student to do the task obtained
Little did he know
Not a single knowledge was gained
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Let me come home
Help finish the chores
Send you to bed
So you can put on that bathrobe you like
And you can clear your head
While I finish up the work
As you get relaxed
I hope you smile with the smell of candle wax
Because this is my favorite part
Even if you don't feel good
I'll slip that bathrobe off and be as gentle as possible
Until you fall asleep
You're only feeling twenty percent but I need to give you my one hundred and twenty
Nothing would make me feel more confident
Knowing I pleased you
You're in a world of Boys and all I want to be is your Man
Sure, I always have a plan
But it would usually mean
Coming home to you and thinking of how good I can give it to you this time
I'm not a magician but I'd sure love to keep the magic going
Not the boringness the ones before gave you
But multiple sheets needing to be cleaned per week
And a quicker pile up of undergarments in the hamper
Your insecurities will try to damper
But let me show you
How my Eve should feel
When I'm in her sheets
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Im sorry for my boringness & lack of imagination over the years, my sense of dreaming has gone away when he made me realize there's nothing left to hope for. My sense of belonging has diminished into nothing. I guess i was never really worth it to stay. I wanted to just run away with you when times got hard, maybe you weren't running with me, you were running from me. I understand. I wish i could run from me too. My subconscious shadow is always watching me. I'm trapped in this dark world, alone. Waiting to be set free, days are getting longer, breathing is getting harder. My feel of vanishing is getting stronger. It's not that i want to die, but if i were today, i wouldn't mind.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
We were all just lost souls trying to see where we fit.
We were looking for a place to settle down,
A place to call home.
We pretended to love one another,
Rallied together against the boringness of the same old town.
With each passing day we had less to talk about.
We resented each other more the longer we were together.
We created drama out of nothing just to ease our psyches.
Half of them got drunk every weekend just to have a story on Monday,
Made **** jokes and then said **** culture doesn't exist.
A few started doing ****** in the woods;
It was cheap, it was easy, it numbed the chronic loneliness.
I told my best friend that in six months I would never see him again.
He agreed.
We all said we'd get out when we got the chance.
Only a few of us did.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
I glide threw the wind
Im broken within
Snow is cold like my heart within
Emotions always seem to make me cringe
Its a scar deep in a scar like the ones on my skin
Alone signifies me
Because thats what i am
Alone due to the boringness inside of them
We die we lie
Because of the emptyness and boringness inside of us
Forever
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
I dress up
With nowhere to go
I look up high
To get hit down below
My life is constant
With nothingness
I'm a sparkle
In a void
Of boringness
I lay in bed and dream
As years pass me
I'm nearly thirty
And still
Never laughing
I love feathers
And sequins
Dancing in the evening
Glamor and stars
Colors and mars
Yet I'm stuck
Here
Where i want
To dissapear
I'm not wanted
I don't fit in
I don't want to fit in
Here
I want to dissapear
To a land
With love
And hues
Shining
No curfews
Eccentricity
And electric
That shocks
Every single
Bore
Away
So the shining flamingos
Can have a place to stay
Yet here i am
In my constant cave
Bored
And alone
Turning
Into stone
All i can do
Is cry
In my orange dress
Cry
in my pink wig
Cry til
Midnight
*** after that
I die
In the colorless-ness
Of my life
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 6:47 PM UTC