Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Anna Lo Sep 2012
altho
                  ugh i push y
                                         ou away, yo
                                                u have alw
                                                             ­        ays see
                                                             ­                       med to kno
                                                             ­                                               w that
the truth of the m
                              atter is, i will alwa
                                                            ­    ys need you more
                and yet
                                                        poets are flagra
                            nt wastes of space
hem      
                   ming the edge
                                                  s of this society
                                                                                                               confining it
                                     with hed
          onistic needs and wants
                        and all t
                                      he ridiculous feeli
                                                           ­                               ngs assoc
                                                           ­              iated with the fu
                                                              ­                                                          cked system of
                  emot
   ional intelligence
                                            emascu
                                                           lating the blac
                                                                                          k and wh
                                                              ­                        ite i des
                        ire of



Alas, Alas
I seem to have drowned myself into Kool-Aid.
"Poets are shameless with their experiences; they exploit them" said Nietzsche once.
I wonder how you are today.
Optimal2


"Are you 'Doc'?"

His eyes scanned me.
He seemed curious, if anything.

"I am. How are you feeli-"
"Whe's my bat?"

It became clear he had no interest in others.
It also became excruciatingly clear that I, to him, was a higher being of some sort.
A person who was probably in charge.

"Your weapon has been confis-"
"Ih's not a weapon."

The interruption shocked me for a fraction of a second;
his eyes focused and angry, staring into me.
I was glad his bat was nowhere near him.

"I don't expect you to understand;
you are after all, just a child.
But people are dead. Their families are suffering.
People are suffering the consequences of your decision.
How does that make you fee-?"

"I hate you. I want my bat. Give me my bat."

The boy is angry. He is holding back, and I feel it in my bones.
I feel I should leave, but I never was one to trust my instincts.
I never felt I had any to begin with.

"Your weapon has been confisc-"

"IHS NOT A WEAPON! GIVE ME MY BAT!!
GIVE IT TO ME!! GIVE ME MY BAT!!!"

Okay. This is a tantrum. Should I call lieutenant?
I should be able to handle this. I was good enough to get this job, right?
I studied for this. I understand humans.

"GIVE ME MY BAT!! BAT!! GIVE IT TO MEE!!!"

He's kicking and barely in his chair anymore.
..Maybe a sedative would be necessary now?
No, he's not causing anyone harm though, right?
I mean I think so. And it's not like he-

"GIVE ME MY BAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!"

Okay.
Okay.

"MNAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

****. ****.
I can't do this. I don't understand anyone. I have no emotions.
My opinions are derived from books I was told to study. I'm a miserable robot.
I can't do my job. I can't understand a simple child. Why do I even think this way?
****. ****. ****. ****.

"Take a break, Doctor. We still have a few days 'till he can be set free."
The interruption distracted me from my misery.

I just stood there as two men took away the screaming child.
One of them looked at me with a disappointed twist of his neck, as if to say


'**** doc, you ****** up.' "
Alex Martin Feb 2012
The time moved on quicker than expected
That thing between you and I soon became neglected,
The constant hope and yet constant pain
The nonsensical rules of the game
And would it have been worth while?

Sometimes I think back and remember
That party we both attended in the November
Before you left and I was more confused
The confusion that left me so very bemused
Would it have been worth while?
To tell you then how much it did mean
For you to want me or for it to seem
As if you did.

When I saw that picture of the two of you
That’s when I realised, that’s when I knew
Things had moved on for you but not for me
I needed to change and finally see
But would it have been worth while
To not have deleted you from my life
But kept you up to date with the struggles and strife
I felt at that time.

When that seven months passed and you returned
Those feeli ngs that had begun to disperse
Also began to return and eventually burn
That hideous notion of unrequited lust
Having to see you and hide this just
So as not to make a fool of myself
Would it have been worthwhile, though?
To tell you how much I needed that smile
Of yours in my life every day.

And after these three long years
Feelings of loss, desperation and many tears
For you to tell me that you finally feel that way
Was not actually as incredible or as  ama-
Zing as I hoped it would be, but in fact
Made me see
And now I know and can finally smile
Realising that no – it Would not have been worth while.
Amanda Starr Sep 2013
The head rush I get
Get ready, get set
The fluster in my brain
get  ready, get set, go insane
the beautiful smile on that beautiful face
get ready, get set, let my heart race
the tremble in my body
get ready, get set, this has gotta be
The shakes I get
Get ready get set
The thing I feelI now its real

— The End —