"insufferable" poems
I want to sleep forever and reside in my dreams
To frolic through a collage of different spectacles and scenes
An escape from the insufferable, cruel world at large
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever so I can live in my dreams
The ruler of the lands, the queen of all kings
With nothing to fear but the darkside of the conscience
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever and fight my inner demons
Provide peace of mind for all bothered and exhausted
Float on utter bliss; those monsters, I'll never miss
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever and never show sadness again
Bright, long-lasting smiles on weekly sullen days
Created and maintained in a variety of ways
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever to erase everything
I want to sleep forever and feel warmth again
To bathe myself in content that won't ever end
Let me sleep forever
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 3:00 AM UTC
They are always with us, the thin people
Meager of dimension as the gray people
On a movie-screen. They
Are unreal, we say:
It was only in a movie, it was only
In a war making evil headlines when we
Were small that they famished and
Grew so lean and would not round
Out their stalky limbs again though peace
Plumped the bellies of the mice
Under the meanest table.
It was during the long hunger-battle
They found their talent to persevere
In thinness, to come, later,
Into our bad dreams, their menace
Not guns, not abuses,
But a thin silence.
Wrapped in flea-ridded donkey skins,
Empty of complaint, forever
Drinking vinegar from tin cups: they wore
The insufferable nimbus of the lot-drawn
Scapegoat. But so thin,
So weedy a race could not remain in dreams,
Could not remain outlandish victims
In the contracted country of the head
Any more than the old woman in her mud hut could
Keep from cutting fat meat
Out of the side of the generous moon when it
Set foot nightly in her yard
Until her knife had pared
The moon to a rind of little light.
Now the thin people do not obliterate
Themselves as the dawn
Grayness blues, reddens, and the outline
Of the world comes clear and fills with color.
They persist in the sunlit room: the wallpaper
Frieze of cabbage-roses and cornflowers pales
Under their thin-lipped smiles,
Their withering kingship.
How they prop each other up!
We own no wilderness rich and deep enough
For stronghold against their stiff
Battalions. See, how the tree boles flatten
And lose their good browns
If the thin people simply stand in the forest,
Making the world go thin as a wasp's nest
And grayer; not even moving their bones.
23.6k
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
Beside a dusty fan droops languid veins
whose movement barely churns up tarnished grime,
as lazy sun exudes through poisoned panes
injected with the film of listless time.
A gentle sigh is exhaled without will
for emptiness of long forgotten mind.
Eyes shudder closed to desolation's shrill
of conscious much too free and so, confined.
Revolting spittle dribbles down a chin
with absolutely nothing left to do.
To entertain and keep from going thin
you spy on friends who in turn spy on you.
Alas! For boredom is the finite trait
of great mankind's insufferable fate.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
Off the train I hit the streets
and start laughing. This is ridiculous,
incomprehensible. How can innumerable bipeds
have individual inner lives. Why are they doing
what they’re doing? I have no answer
New York City but to also go about my business
in this case prepare for surgery, survival.
But why survive with so many exact replicas
to replace me? A swarm of ants or hive of bees,
social organisms they’re called, climbing
over each other, avoiding bumping and amazingly
making way, anticipating the sudden turns
and straight paths of others, strangers but brothers,
sisters incubating, the cells of a small
***** nodes of a single semi-conscious organism.
The concept of a higher power that cares
for me is also risible yet how else
can I explain the surgeon and his team,
robots and magnetic resonance imaging machines,
all primed and trained to save my life.
They are not particularly interested in what
I do with my time. I am immediately
in love with the Irish brogue of the head nurse,
the Indian skin of the physician’s assistant.
The long extraordinarily thin
fingers of the famous surgeon. All
mine to savor (and the other cancer patients).
Despair, lose all hope
that’s what the sign says at the gates of hell
and at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center the sign says
Be kind to our customers who are waiting and suffering.
Yesterday’s suicidal thoughts: the mind
is a clever servant, insufferable master. Therefore,
meditate on this: absolute need, dependence on the Other.
I still like Hombre, The Shootist and Ulzana’s Raid
but realize those dead heroes
were subordinate to society: the gun manufacturers who armed them.
Thus, I go for cancer tests, accepting, not predicting results.
Hero accepting help.
A torrential rain following five days of flooding,
tornadoes out west busting up wooden towns
all because too many of us are hoarding plastic, herding electrons.
None of us know how it will end, what the outcome will be
(of our surgery). The best that can be said
is Don’t forget to breathe. And you might
as well believe in that higher power.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
We are slaves of our thoughts, as they bifurcate down crossroad after crossroad, as they diverge in all different directions and force us to obey, and if you must defy then prepare for the pain of cracking bones and resting your head on a cinder block to sleep at night as your brain comes up with new, insufferable ways of torture to force you back down onto your knees, making you bow down. Rebel against yourself all you want but there is no escape from the dystopian society in your head. Knowing this will only make your hunger for escape even greater for we want what we can’t have.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
I'll draw the line, it's too far gone,
predictable like dot to dot
to map these problems out again.
Our criminality self-made,
insufferable, ill-timed, insane;
all but an ounce of pride to gain.
Though, guaranteed to cut a loss,
we'll kid ourselves it's worth the cost
for half a gram of happiness,
with half of that stuck on the desk.
We've only got a quarter left:
it's all to play for, do your best.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
men and their egos (I turned twenty this summer) are
inseparable
insufferable
begrudgingly
they admit “guess you were right”
believing that will make them heroes,
by full on confessing they are ********
I turned twenty in the summer
my tan legs in cutoffs (it’s summer) drives them to madness,
accused, you are pitiless, for their dreams of you involve ransom
still, you
search and quiet plead like Abraham, to the heated air,
while listening to Whitney Houston and Ed Sheeran,
(on your earbuds just so nobody knows your weakness)
for just that one good man in the township of
***** and Gomorrah
my mother bitter sneers good luck with that,
forgetting I am now twenty years
so old, so advanced,
that my hopes and aspirations are no longer those
the ones in my high school yearbook
my poetry fills pages,
a human urban renewal,
laying out a city of hope
recalling that ***** and Gemorrah were destroyed
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
Dull lips give way to a finely sharpened tongue.
Soft skin slides underhand like roughly hidden scales.
*You asked of me to bare my blood.
Both times I cut my veins for you.
Both times you asked for more
And I bled once again,
for you, my Prince.*
A hand touches my soul; held within the demons greedy paws.
All the while, I wonder why, I let you continue to rein over me.
An insufferable plague you have bestowed over my brow.
Nay...
My heart.
My heart quakes from Lust's tightening grip.
My veins bleeding for you...
A card dealt from the sleight of a devils right hands.
A dagger in the left, aimed for the back.
- Hark -
The call of darkness beckons me on-wards.
Calling me home through the red fog and the vile pit of hatred.
*When you asked for me; I was yours.
Then, when you asked for another,
I withdrew...*
You are an enigma, in your entirety.
Oh, sweet angel
burden with a devils twisted soul.
You shall burn forlorn in a delightful blue flame.
*Alas, ask once more my Nephilim Prince.
Ask;
and I shall bleed my veins for you.*
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 6:10 PM UTC
Snail trail leading from mouth to heinous ****
let slugs undulate their way across my listerine lips
old jokes like S-Car-Go
and stuff inside me more variable and insuppressible
similar to Inspector Gadget
Matthew Broderick was my mentor
as a child
I am not in pampers any longer
4 P's of teens
***** petrol party and paycheck
that doesn't include pampers
I used to wade in my own ****
that's ******* disgusting to think about now
now an adult
still just wasting time
and wading through my own ****
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
Snorers all
scattered world-wide
in offices and homes
in boardrooms
and bedrooms;
O Snorers all
loud and clear
low and shrill -
listen ye
to the loud wake-up call
as from Rip Van Winkle's Snore
stand up united
and drown the howl of protests
against snoring that is surely no less divine
than the Chorus of Angels in Heaven -
for the great God who made the Aurora
no doubt also conceived of the Divine Snore!
and so, stand up, ye sonorous Snorers!
unite! I call unto ye!
unite against the detractors
and the critics
and the complainants
and those of low culture
who cannot
lie still and listen to Snoring
as one rightly would at a concert hall
listening to the delightful play
of a quartet of violins
O how long will you take it lying down,
ye blessed Snorers of the World?
let the world know
the first divine music was indeed the Snore;
and the very height of human communication
is the unabashed snore
for all other modes of communication
lead to mis-communication
but the language of the snore is always exact and crisp!
the message of the Snore always precise!
the meaning always loud and clear!
and the very height of the snore
(let us declare to the world)
is the couple in bed
snoring away together
beside each other
making such divine music
making love with the rolling thunder of snores
so that one might say:
*do we have a couple of wild boars
copulating in the next room?*
stand up, O Snorers of the World -
and defy the mockers
and those who seek divorce
on grounds of insufferable Snoring;
stand up against those who sue
for loss of sleep from
friendly, neighborly Snorers;
stand up now
against these losers, these whingeing nags
uncouth and untutored
in the mysteries of the art of the Snore!
stand up and with one loud blast of
a universal Snore,
with one melodious Snore
let us
drown their dissenting voices,
their unprovoked cacophonous complaints!
stand up, Snorers young and old!
unite, Snorers black, white and gold!
defy the world! O ye Snorers
of quite nights and of lazy days:
let us overwhelm the world
with the pleasing symphony of Snores;
let us bless the ears of the world
with the dulcet streams of varied notes and arias!
stand up! unite! - O much-maligned Snorers of the World!
with one voice raised
in a triumphant Snore
let us declare:
*No longer will we be silent!
Our voices will be heard!*
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
In high school
we learn of logarithms, iambic meter
how to balance an equation between zinc oxide
and excess hydrogen gas–
only to find there was no reaction to begin with.
We’re told that colleges get to know you
through three letter acronyms—ACT, SAT, GPA…
and our name is somewhere in the application.
It’s repeated to us to the point of meaninglessness,
like a perpetually chanted word:
Grades, scores and testing, testing, testing.
The students they want know everything
that will be forgotten by their thirtieth birthday.
I anticipate the day
that our Geometry teacher is to write an essay
on the individual’s struggle
against a systematically inhumane society
in Orwell’s 1984
only to receive a “D” under the scrutinizing eye of
the honor’s English teacher
Or, perhaps, the day someone in charge
is faced with some insufferable fate
the textbooks call chemical stoichiometry,
thirty years after repressing memories
of having to memorize the periodic table
Socrates once said that the youth today
will be the demise of civilization.
We contradict our parents, are smug in the face of authority
and tyrannize our poor teachers—
a youth who will ultimately leave behind a world
too damaged for our children to inherit.
Funny he said this
roughly 2,000 years ago–
I think my dad said something like that last year.
But, until the day we grow up to pay taxes
and marry someone we despise,
we’re just stupid teenagers.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 11:37 AM UTC
You're a leftist and a Marxist and a socialist and you're right
There ain't no politics for real justice in this all condemning strife
So when the cause goes to war
And you're floored by the flaws
As the totalitarians scoff the Trotskyists
With their insufferable prejudice you abhor
Stand firm to the fore
And demand something more
Cause their aint no justice in this life
Till we all answer to those silenced
By the ringing of that call
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:00 AM UTC
In high school
we learn of logarithms, iambic meter
how to balance an equation between zinc oxide
and excess hydrogen gas--
only to find there was no reaction to begin with.
We're told colleges get to know you
through three letter acronyms-- ACT, SAT, GPA
And the students they want know everything
that they'll forget once they turn thirty.
Little do we realize
that if our Geometry teacher were to write an analysis
on the coexistence of good and evil in To **** a Mockingbird,
he would likley receive a "D" under the scrutinizing eye of
the honor's English teacher
Nor do we see that the art instructor would freeze in her tracks
faced with an assignment filled with the insufferable fate of
chemical stoiciometry
Socrates once said that the youth today
will be the demise of civilzation.
We contradict our parents, are smug in the face of authority
and tyrannize our teachers.
Funny he said this roughly 2,000 years ago--
I think my dad said something like that last year.
But, until the day we grow up to pay taxes
and marry someone we despise,
we're just stupid teenagers.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 8:36 AM UTC
*The men line up
Up against my brain
Too big for its skull
They bleed out my eyes
And eyelashes become their noose.
But you don't ever get in line.
So you won't be finished off.
Done, you sewn up creature,
Will you keep this name?*
Go ahead
Finish me off with your broken
Neck intentions
I see how your eyes flutter and shut
Like a hospital bed curtain
I see the hangmen
Dangling from your
Eyelashes
*Slowly fire red
blood dries to a maroon
and, there, a raccoon
mocks your crawling carcass*
Ha ha you know the rhyme then
Again and again
I'm looking for someone who can understand
Awkward crisscrossing needle and thread
Your hands are stained red with my blood
Now you are gone
Your absence leaving
Bleeding bullet holes
That anyone can walk
By and put their fingers in
I love the quick high
The exasperated rush but
I wish now you did not leave
Such a perfect exit wound
*Needle and thread shaking
But Why? Haven't I done this before?
A thousand times
Change his name.
Sew him up.
Scared every time.*
You changed your name
A thousand times since last we met
I am cold and tired my wounds deep
I love you no-name
Sew me up
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
Tight, wet, heat
Sweetly encompassing cold blown glass
No *** shops on this end of town
Impatient
Head shop will have to do
Sensual, low clouds of Nag Champa swirling
I looked at many until I found the right one
Just knew
My deepest...depths clenching with need
It may not be the best thing
But it gets the job done
******* myself doesn't take nearly as long as I would like
So I touch softly, dragging out the insufferable torment
To crescendo into a blazing glory
A Phoenix on third degree fire
Pulsing
To the staccato beat of my lonely heart
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
Our lives intertwined in the most intricate of ways
You gave me life and uplifted my soul
I would like to believe I did for you the same
I gave you my eyes and I gave my all
you became the blood that ran through my veins
but in between the laughter and our intoxicating love
something was lost along the way
we stopped talking about the future and growing old
and before the sun could set on us we parted ways.
Now we are two more strangers in a world full of them
just two more strangers that life leaves behind
while I stayed in love, you began to wonder if you ever was
and you question how much I loved you
when it was right there in front of you to see.
Why couldn't you see? Honey, why couldn't you see?
that life became insignificant the moment you left
and it didn't matter the things you did I still loved you the same.
Now we are two more strangers that barely know each other
just two more strangers pulled apart by the passage of time
drifting farther away in the sea of lost love
we are becoming a distant memory with the years
this couch will never know you were here
but this bed holds your essence like yesterday
two more strangers that once shared the same bed
two more strangers that shared the same toothbrush
and one breath.
Now I have seen you again and it's like I don't know who you are
your voice rings familiar but it's almost like
I am meeting you for the first time
wearing the sad smile of acceptance along
with those nostalgic eyes
our lips can still taste one another
and yet they tremble in fear
without saying what they want
because the words won't come out right
we often wonder what would had happened
if we had stuck it out yesteryear
but we have become two more strangers
that walk away in opposites
in insufferable melancholy,
two more strangers that barely know each other.
Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 4:13 PM UTC
Harm no one, the inevitable thought of a miniscule Agamemnon,
The insufferable, the pious, the deceiver,
And the devout, the sheep, the lamb,
Lead me I follow, Follow me I will train you,
Despicable, For here there is only nothingness disguised as a cruel sacrifice,
I believe in nothing, in circles, in patterns, in physics, in atoms within atoms, in life that studies itself,
I believe in the arts, in music, in poetry, in dreams that are breathed into existence through an artists touch,
I believe in family, in pure love, in unconditional acceptance, in forgiveness and the cultivation of hope,
I believe in people, who's emotions rage like the sea, who's ideas raise whole cities, who's dreams are to find peace and understanding, who sometimes are misled but are never beyond the good within themselves,
I believe in life, in growth, in the earth, the mother of us all and the sun, the father that watches his children basking in his warmth, I believe in trees that give us oxygen and water that gives us life.
And so I believe in the underdog, the unseen, the overlooked, the underrated, and the unappreciated, I believe in the here and now, the present moment, the kiss, the dance, the wine, and the open hand. There is nothing of your cold religion, or your angry god that I need. Because life is all around me and beauty is in all things here and now and forever.
Space spirals on and the river of time still flows in all directions, it is eternal this holy thing and it is without end, no mans demonic godhead will ever bring it down and this disease called religion will eventually be cured.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
Past thick briers and dense thickets
Beyond inconsolable oceans and insufferable lakes
Amidst the roar of obstreperous winds
Within the abyss of calamity
I've let you past my obscurities into the forest of my heart
In return you promised your own so our forests would grow
Instead you left the seeds of hatred that grew amongst my trees
You used me as an exploit for your own selfish endeavors
Our love was made of rot and mold
The passion expired and you were gone
You left me to swim my way back
To climb past my briers and thickets
To bear the violent winds
To climb out of the dark abyss
So that I may find myself once again in clutters of debris
Spread out across the shores of what remains of me
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
Oh heart of mine
Beat on, beat on
There is agony yet
To be faced.
This tear may seem
Insufferable now
But you will be
Further defaced.
Oh body of mine
Push forth, push forth
The days will be
Longer than this.
Right now, we work.
The fun is passed.
All that's left is
To reminisce.
Oh soul of mine
You persevere.
For once be as strong
As my boasts.
If you falter now
And flicker out
We'll become as
Lifeless as ghosts.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
*love is a rhythm i choose not to edit
burning serpents in syncopated tones
stolen vibrations from conquered nations
i am amazed at slavery's undertones
doomsday hypothesis
insufferable hypocrisy
is this the way we are meant to perceive
reality's final throes
perhaps a last attempt at infatuation
another insurgency toward our situation
there is music in the millipedes
1,000 feet stomping on the hot pavement
midday heat is burning the gentlest of trees
and yet saving lives of anteaters in need
grief is complete and not wasted
never jumbled by threads of frailty
insipid lipids deftly crawl upon caterpillars shoulders
starry eyed soldiers
sold to the streets in shivering brokenness
i am madness incarnate
the west is a spectacle of insubstantial lunacy
if you wish to conquer this reality
open your heart and kiss the feet of kindness
blindness is worshipped as if it was wisdom
sincere victims of another’s prison
simpler lives define simpler times
keepers of the rhythm
keepers of the rhyme
i dine on salamanders and supine slivers of the moon’s heartbeat
fault no one but yourself
gifts are wealth
i am salt and sulphur is the mother of the soul
loose cannons explode
she rode the wild shadows
and took the backroads all the way home
infinite living history
his memory serving beauty forever
for a lifetime i am looking for truth
in shattered space and respecting the face of the ancestors
self aware shades of solidarity
harvested by hands made light with clarity
is this music
is this meaning
her openness is our healing
this majesty surrounds us all
resolve to rise and your bound to fall
small instances of randomness daily
semantics are happenstance
you graduate from school with a bouquet of flowers
that rot in the morning’s splattering of paint
as garbage heaps resist ***********
issues of power and surface tension
i am dreading the exceptions
give love now or move out of the way
stay awake and aware
while sadhana is beckoning to us all*
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 2:58 PM UTC
Please excuse my drivel of words as I ascertain my inexcusable lustless love life.
However,
humor me for a second…
But I’m looking for Miss Alabama Worley.
Mississippi Isabel,
**** it, Lady Macbeth would do.
That ***** knows crazy.
Where is the incomprehensible insufferable beast?
That will take my heart in one foul swipe and refuse
Me rest till I’ve given her lust the spearing of a hungry tribesman.
I want the lock and chain around my ***** because my naked vulnerability
Is hers for the taking.
Beat me,
Oh monstrosity of the bedroom
Let the blood drip as I lick your foot.
Indulge me with the endless sweat and tears of the night.
And **** me like a rock star
Till I taste the rubber.
Where is the whirlwind passion?
Love at first sight.
And not the giddy looks of something Michael Cera starred in.
I am talking tattoos on the first date,
Reckless marriage doomed by the 50 pound ring on her finger.
Put me in a ****** east end flat,
Let me starve because ******* is food for the brain,
And her ***** tastes delectable when I’m high.
**** my brother in our bed,
I never liked him anyway.
A best friend is a man who’s shared the same hole.
And trust me, we’re closer than ever.
You’ll be all I’ve got.
I’ll sleep on the couch and crawl back to you,
Because I'm wrong,
I am always wrong.
Laugh at the scars on my wrists
Pity isn’t there for the taking.
Leave me shaking in the corners of my mind,
Let lust grow like anger and revenge
Let anger and revenge grow
When I go soft on you,
Put those cigarettes out on my chest,
And choke me; asphyxiate me from the inside out.
I want to burn in the hellish rapture
Betwixt your thighs.
******* fire in half an hour,
God knows where you got it from.
But those who care share, right?
But then,
Perhaps I’ll just end up like my parents,
Settle down with a nice girl.
A nice normal girl,
Missionary position isn’t that bad I ‘spose.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
Robot rendezvous and electric engagements
Android alimony to cyborg sexists
Weve created our technological truces
Bound tightly to this digital dance
We wont work without electronic easing
Copy and paste emotion
Upload desires
Forward your sentiments
Firewall the insufferable experience
Logout of life and reboot reality
Let the dry bones regain their flesh
The empty eyepits become filled and see
Electro-spark the cognitive cardiac arrest
And reascend the route from the CPU catacombs
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
Hey stranger,
I hope everything is good at your end because after you i got to know the meaning of relationships,
i questioned myself because you said i was not good enough without even saying those words
i was having nightmares of your comeback
but do you know what i said to those haunted nights,
that i am again strong enough to fight you and your unsaid words
the words made me question the love everyone in my life had for me
i was insecure, insolent, insufferable because i was running behind you
but now i am standing far away from you because i have wasted enough of those precious tear that never you never valued
i am openly blaming you for all the miseries i had because i am accepting the stupidity i did to keep you with me
i was stupid enough to say that you were my best friend but you didn't even know the meaning of friend.
i was the bad guy in every situation even when i was the one who was going to suffer in the end,
not anymore,
now i am the girl who doesn't even give a **** about you and your memories.
i am THE girl who will face the world with courage and hope.
This is the end of everything,
smile,
soul
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 3:21 PM UTC
Writers can be so snotty sometimes
They think they're so clever with their rhymes
They employ obscure words
the way armies deploy a specialized force
pedantic, pretentious, affected on some insufferable plagiarized course
Their wit a mired ploy to be perceived as bright
not so much to share knowledge
but to be the one that's right
vaingloriousness cripples the honesty in script
and another puzzled reader
reads between the lines of a message adrift
people twist things to their advantage
skew the facts to fit the page
shrug it off as a necessity of the modern age
most do it, few will notice
if they do they'll say it's a mistake
deadlines howl, time grates like a rake
truth is incidental when words are fake
another American madman goes berserk with a gun on a spree
perfect timing for the rollout of Grand Theft Auto 3
Don't worry little directors of death and mayhem
You've no culpability in the land of the free
causality is just some unprovable notion
you're safe and sound from any legal motion
exculpatory mitigation is your right as an 'artist'
'till the sorry day you eat the gun
the eventual price you'll pay for your sick wicked fun
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC