"impulsivity" poems
I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway
my impulsivity often overpowers my conscience
yet I am almost always fully aware
of the decisions I make
and their consequences
I am not exactly mentally stable
but I am sane enough
to know right from wrong
yesterday from today
love from lust
although sometimes I mix them up
I have a tendency to lunge at any pair of arms that open for me
my mind and body often disagree
my body saying yes to eager hands
my mind saying no
constantly looking towards my heart
thinking how stupid one must be
to fall repeatedly
get hurt every single time
and still manage to do the same
over
and over
again
I wonder
how many times I will have to hit the ground
in order to learn to stop falling face first?
I often say things
that should be left unsaid
I often do things
that should not be done
sleep in beds unfamiliar
make believe love to strangers
get to know people who will not remember me tomorrow
I am gone as quickly as the hangover
I can be washed off the tongue
just as quickly as the liquor
I often believe I am capable of inciting change
I kiss temporary lips with permanence
hoping that I can train them to stay
I love temporary people with permanence
hoping that I can train them not to leave
and when they do
I claim to have seen it coming
I am incapable of forgetting
a scrapbook memory of skin and heartbeat
of touch and moments
I know not to look directly into eyes
for they can be blinding
and I still
do it anyway
I know of the risks that shouldn't be taken
well aware of their consequences
and I still
take them anyway
you could say
it is my own fault
for the way that things continue to turn out
but I can make no promise of apology
instead
I will live momentarily
**** up intentionally
love recklessly
fall unguarded
break enough times to learn how to put myself back together
crash into concrete enough times to learn how to shift a crooked smile
into something worth seeing
I have been told that a life lived in fear
is hardly a life lived at all
so I intend to live every second
like it is the last one I will have
I will write each night as it happens
narrate my own stories
and hope they turn out okay
I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
the cold of your skin
the warmth of mine
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense
we stirred
together
to a perfect temperature
my rash impulsivity
your calculated drive
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense
we became
experts
at spontaneous plans
the blatant boom with which i speak
your subdued familiarity
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense
we would
harmonize
like singers
like lovers
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 1:06 PM UTC
fuel desperation,
and so are valuable
assets in the game
of spinning chambers.
one ***** is all it takes.
you might not believe
a person still wading
through adolescence
could harbor such
malevolent intent.
one slight is all it takes.
age is barely even
a consideration when
haunted by the desire
for revenge or need
of self-preservation.
one fragile moment is all it takes.
fewer years simply
equate to shallower
perspective, exacerbating
youthful impulsivity.
one bullet is all it takes.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
Complex PTSD made even more complex by frequent bouts of mild psychosis.
Neurosis.
Impulsivity.
Mood swings.
Suicidal tendencies.
Inconsistent personality.
Writing uncontrollably.
Questionable hygiene.
Obsessive pineapple eating.
Veganism.
Atheism.
Humanism.
And I have a horrible sense of direction.
Wait,
What was the question?
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
A monolithic sculpture stands upon a hill.
Ornate work of marble marks the artisan’s skill.
Clad as a knight of yore, with stony gaze held high.
Pilgrims travel from miles around to fall under his eye.
Epitome of courage, virtue, and respect
effused upon the villagers traits they should reflect.
Elements gnawed at the stone but failed to corrode
the manifold of lofty aims the knight would bestow.
Dark years beset the kingdom causing disarray-
Tyranny, vanity, and deceit led the people all astray.
Artisan's work above, a shining icon of probity.
A resolute bastion against the world’s impulsivity.
A day will come when the people reach distress;
crying out, they beseech the artisan’s redress,
but long has the craftsman been journeying far away
humbly allowing his handiwork, the message he conveys.
Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 9:26 PM UTC
My mind feels
As though it
Flickers.
“Tick,
Tic,
Ti,
T.”
To experience ADD
is to have your brain
Switch between
Six different channels,
Six different themes.
It will always feel like you are
Rocketing between things.
In the span of a second,
Your mind will explore the dying children
In Mozambique.
In the next ponder,
Your mind indulges in the roleplay of
Naruto and the pink-haired chick.
I have no power over
Who dances in my play.
I know they bring flames,
But I’m uncertain as to
Who is managing the stage.
I am the director of this show, yet
I was banned to say.
The show has no ending, no beginning,
My life didn't come with instructions.
So I ****** it up and just lived with it.
In the moments that I daydream,
I always force myself to be in the present.
In fear that the world will think
I'm too dumb or complacent.
But that's just how my brain works.
Ten seconds gone,
I am travelling across the pool.
A red bruise on my lips and
A crack on my tooth.
I ask myself again,
Then and there,
How and when
Did I get this bruise?
It can be such a disadvantage,
It can be such a gift.
To be wholesome in a way,
But to also lack the basics.
I feel like I’m constantly living between
The two binary opposites.
As regulating emotions
can become a huge problem
I may have creativity and the sway,
But I'm also managing my impulsivity every day.
Do you know
Why I zone out
And lose focus?
My world inside
Can just be too chaotic.
But trust that I'm working on it.
Regardless,
I know this faucet will flow seamlessly
And being more aware of this condition
Will only help me manage it.
So what have I to lose,
In the midst of this plight?
I’ve been writing a lot of poetry,
Haven’t I?
AOA
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Your intrepid nature
Mixed up like a tonic and gin
Half squeeze of lime, stirred up with mine
The in and out of clarity stare
Impulsivity meets the creative dare
A kiss with more bite than lip
Followed by an endless moment trip
Hanging in that space
Face to face
The strangely familiar embrace
The rules fall off the page
Letters clink on the faded olive green tile
A 1970’s homage to yesterstyle
The ‘U’ slid under the fridge
You never bat an eyelid
Just hold your gaze
Wandering wild
Through my mental maze
Pausing on occasion to play
Your breath smells like love on fire
And what does love smell like?
Flower petals shut tight in books
Not enough to turn heads
But good for a couple of looks
It’s “just woke up
from a sweet dream” subtle
Enough to plant a seed
And not look back
Knowing you’ll be back
You’re under attack
By the chemical undertones
Bidding you to the smitten zone
Where, when alone
Vulnerability conducts the strings
Plucking and pulling
As your heart faintly sings
The trap is set
You’ve been caught
No points given
For the good fight fought
Now back to your breath
Tickling my lips
My hands grab your inviting hips
We relight the fire
The air hangs heavy
With deepened desire
The room disappears
Along with my fears
The world spins again
Now that you’re here
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Impulsivity, I am hopelessly in love with you.
Buy the shoes.
Ditch school.
Kiss her.
Drive 30 minutes
for french fries
Kiss him.
Buy 18 pet snails.
Eat the octopus tacos.
In acting class they told me
to follow my impulses.
At home they told me not to.
A blessing and a curse
might land me in a hearse
But I’m living
Today I wrote a letter to someone I love and I’m going to send it
Tomorrow I might stay home and cook pasta,
or maybe I’ll drive to Portland.
Pack only a few T-shirts and my terrifying
overabundance of freedom
Are you proud?
I’ve been told not to be so impulsive.
To think more rationally.
To weigh the consequences.
“You’ll regret it!”
But the greatest regret I’ve ever felt
is having not done anything
about something that is my everything.
I know I’m not an idiot.
I’ve told myself this for years and I’ll stick to it,
but there will never be a day
when my mind defeats my gut.
Sometimes it means I’m
irresponsible.
Unpredictable.
Messy.
Slutty.
“Who are you anyway?”
I have a secret
-I don’t know who I am
And if I’m lucky, I never will.
You, my impulsivity, are to blame and to thank for that.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
the days you couldn't get out of bed
were the days he was full of birds
in his stomach; fluttering wings and
sharp beaks pulling for validation.
and the hummingbird in your heart never stops going off
when you've trained it this well, because even a bird
can fall in love with its cage
if it's beautiful enough;
stockholm syndrome in its raw disgust.
impulsivity never came naturally
for him, perfection was
his answer to thoughts smelling
like recycled air and suffocation.
but you,
you would rip all the sheets off
and you could always tell when there was something off
when there was something i've lost,
and never knew that it was you
growing around my bones like moss.
or maybe more like poison ivy
by the way you expected so much from me
and i couldn't stop the both of us
from falling off the rollercoaster you
refused to get off of.
so now that i know,
i won't let you become my demise
because a ********** once told me;
"Anticipation is always stronger
than surprise."
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
Everything begins with I,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
These two words go together, my
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
They make me say or not be able to,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
They usually come in a pair, the two,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
I know that they will go away,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
But some days they just flood my brain,
Impulsivity and Indecisiveness.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
no matter how much i sleep, rest, or nap i'm exhausted
i've taken to yawning in my favorite class.
no matter how easy i take it, my body still aches when i move
it's frankly rather disquieting.
no matter how much i clear out of my head, i'm still hurting
letting go of difficult situations is hard.
no matter how ahead i get, i'm still stressed for the next thing
the rapidity of life is eating away at me.
no matter how kind i am to those around me, i still know shame
impulsivity of emotion is a thinker's nightmare.
no matter how much faith i have, i still feel uncertain
my god is for me, but it feels like life is against me.
no matter how mature i am, i am still undercut by those older than me
focusing on the positive is not going to be theraputic right now.
no matter how much control i have, i'm still shackled to my anxiety
i cannot just "calm down" to ease your or my own conscience.
no matter how many decisions i make, there is still much left undone
slowing down is a luxury, one i take guiltily and not without consequence.
no matter how much i improve, i'm still bound to expectation of perfection
humanity is not perfect, and neither am i, broken and inadequate, but we try, oh we try.
no matter how much joy is in my life, i still feel the crushing weight of depression.
i said i was doing better
no matter how much i am validated by my loved ones, i still hurt myself
my eating disorder has infected my system completely, down to my bones.
no matter how many breaks i take i'm still being driven into the ground
crying because of household tasks is pathetic.
no matter how much i try to pretend life is not stressful, it's
digging itself into my heart and soul.
i am not okay, and those who know it are trying to keep themselves afloat
i can't escape this tired, this exhausted, no matter how hard i try.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 6:55 PM UTC
There’s something about your pale skin
blanketed with thin hairs that makes
me care to become closer, to massage
your ache, to make you quake with
relief; despite your disbelief
about my interest in you, I really do wish to kiss
your manner and bathe in the
cool vibes you emit.
I want to hit my brain for
silencing my heart, for halting
its beats when my eyes meet
your sweet and enticing
form; It’s hard for me to say
if I’ll feel the same as yesterday
in the future, for fickleness
has been in my nature,
though it is an unattractive trait—
indecision and impulsivity;
Contemplation is a proclivity,
a natural occurring activity that
sends too many signals to my mind
and I waste all of my precious time
deciphering true feelings from
conditioned expectations
However, I cannot deny the tingly
sensation my body rides when I look
into your mind
And I’m quite curious to find
out everything about you while
keeping my own mystery unsolved
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
"Your discomfort is better than mine"
They speak without words.
Slowly roasting from the inside out
is a hard thing to hide;
smiling with lava in your chest.
Persist, persevere, push onward;
put a pin in it.
Pin the feelings that are inconvenient.
Note and move past the ignorance and injustice, impulsivity and disrespect.
"Shut up and melt"
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 11:47 PM UTC
I am terrified of what I may do to myself if I let my guard down.
It's not that I don't want to be happy.
It's that at my core,
I do not trust myself.
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 4:45 PM UTC
born into a nature land full of catastrophes.
age addition every 365 days, eventually turned 8 years old.
hyperactivity and impulsivity crawled out like a tiger.
classroom confusion, youngins yelling for calling out.
lack of raising carpal bones equaled receiving the "detention disease".
homework not finished, studying not finished.
grades diminished, brain thought to be different.
Jun 11, 2010
Jun 11, 2010 at 4:13 AM UTC
Nothing comes easily to me
except maybe impulsivity
it dawned on me recently
that my time on earth is transitory
I was depressed for a while, but
it is what it is so let it be it
I decided to chase my dreams
only, I didn't have the courage
it's too late to apologize to myself
for not realizing what my dreams were
My mind wanders a few times a day
I let it go wherever it may
I'm positive it will come back again
I wonder why people cry when they're happy
Isn't crying for sadness only?
I remember when my friend passed
I asked God why it happened
I felt as though we would live forever
until the glass ceiling was shattered
I still do believe life has a purpose
if not, then what's the reason behind it?
I sometimes pray I pass before he does
I know that's messed up but imagine the sorrow of loss
I have low tolerance for pain hence why I take aspirin
I didn't understand addiction
until my coffee spilled
Life is a great big mystery
for anyone that lives it
If you're ever feeling alone
remember, we're all in this together
every time somebody tells you no
just get stronger
Honestly, I give advice more than I take
it's probably because I think way too far ahead
when I feel lost, I imagine I'm in this place
it's green and sunny, but kind of chilly
but it's cool, I like sweaters
I love you always
-Sincerely, your Inner voice
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
Every now and again.
The therapist will
give you the wheel.
Driving down a highway
for the ****** martyrs
of psychosis.
But whose really helping who?
Pleading incompetent to subdue the enemy.
Only for a moment.
Will I, endulge in this
depravity.
With smiles stained of the ****
I willingly eat to stay relevant
It's decadent.
The sweetest escape.
For narcissists young and old.
Covered in paranoia. Leaking impulsivity.
Rocking the crown of thorns.
I don't know who wore it better.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC
Days awake in unwell sleeping patterns,
Mechanical days are flourishing, I've
Kinda wished everything wasn't so fast;
I kinda wish I wasn't alive.
I was taken away within stabilization,
Carried in the means of unstable air.
Bury me, I scream, reassurance is blared,
I open in the truths of holding no care.
I doted on ideations,
Creating my world wielded in shame.
Crested on my darkest demons,
Resting with every ounce of blame.
My molecules are crying out,
"The world uses broken tools"
If only this world understood me,
And the impulsivity of oncoming abuse.
Inside I am an unkempt person,
And days are passing more than I know.
I gifted your works with my happiness,
And it is now time that I let you go.
I can't forgive you but I can
Forgive myself for loving you.
Goodbye mom
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
you feel like bursting through hospital doors.
repeating names, rushed hands all over my body looking for signs of distress.
you feel like dialated pupils,
like throwing tequila back and standing gutter-in-the-street still until you feel every drop of poison fall down your throat and into your stomach.
you feel like waking up the neighbors,
like throwing wedding shower vases,
like turning on neighborhood streetlights and calling for backup.
you feel like the anguish that sticks onto places you cant reach in the shower;
how im not sure i will ever get your smell off of me.
you feel like chaos, like burden, like a level of wretchedness that takes two hands to control.
you feel like showing up unannounced,
heart racing so hard i feel it bounce along to a chorus of ringing in my ears.
and maybe that's why i can't get rid of you.
because you have replaced impulsivity with spontaneity,
you have taken the fear out of failure and you have made the way danger sounds so easy off of your lips
you feel like the "speak now" instead of the "forever hold your peace."
you feel like the selfish "wait," the last desperate pleading case;
you feel like the passion infecting my lungs in breaths of smoke and dancing dandelion seeds in my ridbcage like a magic show.
like an age-old story, some different form of you all strong women must endure,
you feel like the irresistible situational irony they whisper about when they say "it is not love if it is not torture."
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 11:10 PM UTC
“Fervent Flames”
September 8, 2014
Love nearing the title of unrequited?
Terrified of giving in,
Yet desiring nothing more than to let go,
And succumb to a precariously enthralling love affair,
To be kissed,
Left Gasping for air.
Water glistening over a plethora,
Of Golden-red curls;
Those deep blue eyes penetrate me,
With each enamored gaze,
Engendering me to ache with need,
To lose myself in another,
Surrounded by a misty haze.
Hand gently grasping onto an exposed neck,
Fiery lips travel upon the valley of soft silk,
Mouth upon ***** with deeper urgency,
Than the babe who hungers for,
The gratifying taste of milk.
Impulsivity is given life without second thought,
Caged emotions unleashed,
Feverish and hot,
With lowered inhibitions and a touch of heart,
As my quivering lips begin to part.
Light teal tiles encase,
This moment of heated passion,
Between prospective lovers,
Trying to conceal feelings,
Of undeniable attraction to the other,
Instead of getting lost in one another,
Beneath shifting covers.
With each passing moment,
Giving into sweet ecstasy,
As we discover the inevitable pull,
Engendering us to gracefully crash into the other;
In that moment feeling entranced,
By the strikingly allure within a pair of eyes,
The longing emanating within,
The small chamber so full,
A ticking bomb of ardor,
Inevitably destined to explode,
In flames of fervor.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC
he realized that this empty house was not a home but a labrynth of rooms, where memories hung like grease stains on peeling walls.
there was a time when he had convinced himself that he had been robbed but as he brought his fingers to touch the tables that were now collecting dust, he saw that he had been a fool, for he hadn't any possessions to begin with.
he was weak to his impulsivity and he found himself laying face down on faded sheets that reeked of
whiskey tainted distress and careless words that he tried to swallow but inevitably slipped and fell off his swollen lips.
the same sheets she tangled herself in as she looked at him dazed with ****** eyes that had abandoned church doors.
the same eyes that he often woke up to and caught staring into the darkness trying to make shadows of the black nothingness
or staring out the uncurtained window, transfixed on vacant roads
the same road that he had scooped her body from, thinking that it would stop her rapid shivers failing to see that it was not the road that was so frigid, it was her heart.
so with bruised knuckles and salted cheeks
he walked away from an empty house
and walked along the vacant roads
with hands that were full of nothing whole.
-m.a.e
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
When you left me
My heart imploded and
It felt like I died
But I was still breathing
And each breathe tasted like smoke
From the fire you lit inside me
I loved you and felt more
In my emotions and my body
Than I think I ever will again
The hot mix of love and anger coursed through my veins
While the cold sting of forgiveness and emptiness filled my lungs
And it left me a freezing, burning mess of confusion and contentment
You were awful to me most days
I cried myself to sleep to your silence
But if you were nice the next morning I rejoiced and felt happy again
Now I am rotting inside
Because what I feel for these women
Is not what I felt for you
I feel empty vibrations in the caverns of my chest
I hear depressing gongs in my ears as they tell me they love me
I feel nothing when I say it back
This guilt is a vine that grows throughout my body
It begins in my lungs and steals my breath away
And it forces my limbs to act without emotion
I am cursed with genes that promote impulsivity and high emotionality
And by a past muddied with traumatic events that still hinder my existence
And by my own choices that have led me to hurt so many innocent people
In my quest to find myself
I am so broken and I don't want pity
I just want to understand why
I ruin every good thing that enters my life
Every day I have to maneuver between reality and what's in my head
I cannot determine if what I feel is real or if it's just the result of years of repression
All I know is that my rotting insides are overgrown with vines that keep me moving
Even though I just want to die.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
'forget about the things that weigh you down'
he said
'and fly away'
he spoke as if he was not a prisoner
as if he were not shackled to depression
stuck on hopelessness
addicted to false relief
committed to failure
blind to his brilliance
his potential
his worth
held back by a false hope
the idea that freedom can only be found in death
impulsivity
alcohol
and misery
proved to be a fatal combination
and one gunshot took away everything
gone is the intelligence
the talent and wisdom
the ease of his company
gone is the understanding smile
the homemade turkey burgers
and the smell of listerine and cigarettes
nothing to look forward to
but silent Jets games
weekends with mom
and a hole in the rest of my life
always something missing
always something that’s not quite right
gone is the comfort
the safety
everything i thought i could always rely on
and everything that could have been
what did you mean by flying away?
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
Impulsivity held back,
intensifies and attacks.
What I think I may feel,
doesn't make things less real.
Intentions are changing,
Motives rearranging,
Unable to stay stable,
With this craving that wont cave,
*Strain for ******
Fear the fall,
Get it, got it, lost it all.
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 2:07 AM UTC
Like a log cabin with the door missing
a beautiful painting of a lady with the eyes botched out.
lazily wearing sunglasses and thick oriental scarves and stumbling around snow covered bricks and steps for tea.
If we spoke last night, I’m not the wiser.
Multiple television screens were left on, emitting evil streams of light into the darkness everywhere.
I misstepped and said my favorite instrument is a tuba, and a tuba bellowed and burped in my second sets of dreams.
Now everyone goes and I just sit here alone, without the right books
without the right writing utensils, without the right self, even.
You all look so handsome walking down the street together.
Will we ever be able to reminiscence Wednesday morning, Sunday morning, Saturday morning, Thursday morning (you know the rest) and feel that all the decisions we made were wise?
Idleness does not exist.
Impulsivity does, though, and she is a wench.
she’ll come at night, draped in **** soft, alluring material
she’ll tell you it’s okay for now
do what makes you happy for a little while
for a while
the morning doesn’t happen
the morning might be bright
you might have an internal dialogue and it might end it “why am I here?”
but, hey, it might not.
Like a painting of beautiful angel face woman,
naked, and stretched out on a velvet canopy bed
but the eyes are botched out.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC