"interworkings" poems
You're not someone who can outline all the interworkings of my body.
Someone who will play my games with me.
who will call me Goober.
will see animals as Brothers and Sisters.
snore loudly in my ear at night.
That's okay.
I think.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 4:57 AM UTC
Again life cycles to a clutter, ideas thought through
don't anymore seem as though,
even when expressed aloud and not within.
Maybe they're right,
my ignorance is only withholding wonders
I struggle to actually see.
Hypocritically, I find importance in self enrichment
and observing from afar.
and yet even from a distance you feel so close.
Is this an evolution or is it just another mutation.
Obscure out of any cultural norm, I resonate
impairing those who hear my words.
This constant metamorphosis has left me staring in the mirror for
hours, searching for the presence of my subjected form.
Yet,
while I peer into the interworkings of my reflection
to observe what I actually see...
With all truth, it holds a boy,
an awkwardly timid boy.
Insecurely gazing back into the pupils
of his reality.
He's bellowing inside his
submerged mind.
Subconsciously Blurting:
"Do not turn back,
their are cyclones that await.
And all that is required
to overcome this task
is to go forth without
pondering times long gone...
So here I am, engaulphed
in tidal winds.
I must break loose;
grow, starting from
below.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 10:55 PM UTC
You must stop this.
but for why?
How can I change,
I feel no bliss.
Who are you to judge?
You not a clue,
Of me or what I truly am.
But maybe shall I budge?
Should I express?
Open my mind,
reveal my interworkings.
No I refuse, I will not depress.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 7:29 PM UTC