I am not mad!
This scientist intentions
Were only to be inventive
With science
And look what I've invented!
Made a dead man
Come alive
From live wires
Electrifying
Like lightning rods
From a God
I am the creator
Shall my creation
Worship me
Work for me
or Sacrafice
A Life?

An animals?
Or his own?

On his own
Like an animal

Will he
Look to me
For guidance
Like
From father to son
Or sun to man

Study
all of my
Writings
Read my work
Like a bible

And spread my scriptures
Which were
Ripped up
Pages out a journal
Out-dated
Which
I used in the beginning
Addressing
Old testaments
From old tests and
Old testing kits
When I made my first attempt
At revelation
He,
The prophet
Concluded my project

No matter
How loyal
My creation

The formula
To be able
To be royalty
Is made by faith

Will he reject my claims
And claim
I lack proof

I made you
In my image
So I guess
Like you do
And hypothesize life
Until I have
The power to create
One

We are not ourselves
We are merely mosaics with pieces from the people around you

I have my mothers eyes
They see quick through the lies

I have my fathers smile
Its one of child that refuses to die

I have my grandfathers thick skin
It protects my being

I have my grandmothers hands
They are gentle and firm

I have a cops ears
Because I've heard just about every insult

I have a blind mans walk
Because I'm afraid of choosing a direction

I am made up of many different parts stitched together with laws, morals, and beliefs and within was placed a heart of my own. I was stapled shut by a divine power and left to dwell in this world

But it is up to everyone here
The Frankenstein's of the world
Will you add a piece to me to better or worsen me
Am I a monster or a creation.

Nothing makes me love like in the old days
Nothing but my old ways
You got me changing all my actions
Now you wonder where my passion
You wonder why i'm slackin
I don't love you like my past man
Cause my past man got put on blast, then
My emotions whent to trash
Now i'm living in the aftermath
Void of all except for clash
My heart's been torn apart and slashed
My brains been turned to **** and bashed
My personality turned into ash

My love whent with my soal when you put it over gas

Where he erred
Was he could not stop.
Creation was like the
final throbbing vestiges of an ******
in his ego.
He came life
and birthed madness

BOOM!
The beat ripples down my spine
And shakes my knees till they tingle like raw nerves
That’s when I realize that the music is mine
So every accolade I get I deserve
I mastermind the young Frankenstien
But over the speakers it has a life of its own
It punishes every soul it can find
It even trances me into a zone
It commits ******, so I’m charged with the crime
1st degree for killing everything out right now
That’s the only proper rating in my mind
Since 1st place is the only thing I’ll allow
Hopefully when I’m ready I’ll get the sign
To tame my monster of a sound
Until then keep grooving till your energy winds
And your heart drums its last pound
BOOM!

I made a monster from flesh and bone
A real live horror harder then stone
I made a beast you would not believe
With the strength and cunning to deceive
A shadow of a man fading away
Bound to be a vampire who burns in the day
Dr. Frankenstien could not compare
To the genius of my own despair
I made a monster and though it is hard to see
I am far more monstrous then creation could be

I **** the game, like
I'm Frankenstien's Monster

Tack the ***** to this rocket,
then I launch her

Victor Frankenstien went shopping through morgues and cemeteries and picked out only the very best features,
stitching them together with string and tape

the flowing black hair and the delicate pale skin,
it should have been perfect

but once the lightning struck and the creature opened his glassy eye the truth was revealed

you can't make a person that way
not a good one anyway

the hair was matted and the skin that looked so fresh on a corpse was jaundice

the monster was a monster by design, even if it was not intentional

I understand what it means to take what seems so beautiful on other bodies and stitch it together haphazardly trying to make something perfect

I have Victors hands, the hands that play god

but more than that,
I have the sickly skin and the glazed-over eyes

I have the very best things I saw in everyone else

a gentle angel with one million eyes to watch over her children,
I took her kindness
a wretched holy beast that could never be hurt, I took his aggression

I stole ideas and attitudes that resonated with me,
I stole the rebellion that I saw the righteous wear in books and on TV
I stole the heart that some sweet girl wore on her sleeve with faith in the world around her
I plagiarized, I became everything I thought was beautiful

with my Frankenstein hands I had created a self to live in, an idea to thrive in my useless body

I thought I could live as the perfect boy, the perfect person

but the ideas split off, still inside me
growing and expanding and bulging out of my skin
my bones crack under the weight of so many people within

the sweet, the angry, they were always at odds

a monster, a monster that lies in poppy fields and dreams about love

a sweetheart, a sweetheart that slices rats in half just to see what their insides look like

I am not the perfect thing I wanted to be
I am fractured like the bones I had to rip apart to make them fit

I am too little too late and too much too soon all in one,
not enough, never enough, far too much to bear

I am the god I swore was dead,
I am taxidermy animals that don't look quite right

I am fractures of what I wanted to be

I am Frankenstein
but
I am also Frankenstein's monster

The clock is set
to a time

that like many other
things

is something we
had to not only
bite

but bite down
hard

on the bullet
and settle on

similar

to how
your face your
hair my

mismatched eyes
reminds

us both
that

there is no such
thing

as the perfect
Christmas tree

Whit Howland © 2020

Alone. Sad. And Happy

A weird combination of the sorts. Not often felt all at once, but tonight is a strange one

I’m alone. I’m sad. And for some reason there is a glimpse of cheer in my heart

It’s like a shooting star, beautiful but shocking.

Not many people see shooting stars. Something like 1 in 4,000 see one in a lifetime.

Don’t take that statistic seriously, I just made it up

Perhaps I make up a lot of what I say/or feel. Definitely what I feel.

Alone. Sad. And Happy!

How could anyone feel those emotions together.

Might as well throw Peanut Butter, Ketchup, and Swiss Cheese on a sandwich and call it Breakfast.

It never makes sense, and if anyone goes home and tries to make that…don’t! I can tell you that it tastes just as awful as the origin of the analogy from which it came.

Alone. Sad. And Happy.

There’s no making this up, this ugly mad scientist concoction of feelings, this frankenstien monster of emotion cannot be compared to that of simple hunger, thirst, sadness, heartbreak, or grief.

This is depression! At it’s finest!

Leaving the downtrodden with just the glimpse of hope to stay hopeful. A poisonous seed that is no flower but a **** that suffocates and chokes only to be pulled and grown over and over.

A vicious circle that perpetuates Loneliness. Sadness. And Happiness. The most confusing meal that one will ever digest.