"latters" poems
Miss my misery is this:
Six weeks of torment, 6 days of bliss.
Undone the former by the latters weight.
Then weightless as I sink slowly.
but warmer as I near my fate.
Quick to anticipate, I fall straight. Laid down
Amidst mid air, I feel my fall is fair.
For its not unlike flight, I just might not
be mistaken. Cause I can’t even remember
If a last breath was taken.
Breathless like the panic attacks- the anxiety medication.
Chemically imbalanced, I was just another nothing patient.
Waiting on a waiting list, unease and anticipation.
For a numb tongue, a black lung and an empty room for pacing.
I haven’t tasted my taste buds in two months,
But once they tasted bliss. It’s a wasted, missed misery
a deep and dark abyss.
But my tongue still twists truth like a noose for a neck.
Lie to the young in a suit- so they show the man some respect.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Decisions decisions
when my mind can't make
up many latters to the moon
every step went unnoticed
the chill between my every toe
as I make every go
hence forth to a destiny
or a step back surfing the scale
for even if when the sun may burn
when it sets in my eyes
deep inside I am content
to stay on a natural high
STAYING cool.. on the inside
woe is me sometimes
but who am I to give
up this latter I push
pull out my shades
let my hair down
not only the night is kind to me
I can make due
for a hazy day
all though livid as the sun
there is no time to punish him
I know there is a smile there
we are friends
rising together
finding a soft place to fall
..stayinhg cool on the inside.
© 2015 Salamasina T.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 5:00 AM UTC