"neuroticism" poems
Sometimes,
I imagine I'm some
mourning starlet
who sings Lana Del Rey
at the club
every Saturday night.
A honeyed halo of stage light
tangles itself about
the curled labyrinth
of my hair,
sparkles gold against
my tearing irises.
My mouth parts
and the war cries begin.
In the moments that
the melody offers
my voice repose,
I pound shots to the beat
of the drummer's ramblings.
The crowd applauds
my tipsiness,
their hoots of praise
shaking at the depths
of my eardrums
like an intoxicated tambourine.
My neuroticism
fascinates these people,
I think.
Not in an
exploitive,
let's-glamourize-depression
kind of way,
but in an
it is a truth universally acknowledged
kind of way--in a
******* cuz I've been there too"
kind of way.
See,
within my little,
concocted fantasy
of stage light
and music
and *****
the people don't judge me
the way they do
on the outside.
Here,
I am not
melodramatic or
overly sensitive or
disposable.
Here,
my war cries sound
a little less
like death and
a little more
like poetry.
Here,
they love me
in spite of the sadness.
Here,
we share a song--
here,
they sing with me.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 11:24 PM UTC
She kicked me out of bed first thing in the morning
I didn’t even have time to make us breakfast
Not that she was hungry
She seemed satiated enough
So I left
and later met a friend for lunch
He was kicked out of bed first thing in the morning
He didn’t even have time to make his new lover breakfast
Not that he would have eaten
He seemed satiated enough
So my friend left
And he met me for lunch
Our attempts at fuckery find us
Not too far from one another
It is the distance of a coffee table in a diner
After we make our way to the wayside again
We both have water
And it washes our pallets clean
Of the liquor
And the cigarettes
And her mouth
And his mouth
Still lingering a little bit bitter
So we sip some more
These are sheets we leave behind so stained
That you hope the passion will stay
Until there are so many it doesn’t matter anymore
These one night stands will never feel any less *****
The spots of sweat and memory
That still won’t wash out
So many
They look like constellations
As the sheets hang to dry
I imagine they trace out your body
Not just your body
Any body
So generic now
It makes The Shroud of Turin
Look the aftermath of Babylon’s midnight bustle
These are the ways that love leaves you
Hanging you wet to dry
Stained and *****
And equally alone again
Forgive me for the way my mind wanders
I am still with you
I just didn’t want to *** yet
These are the ways my body leaves me
And then you
The morning after I accidentally told you I love you
Even though we just met
I have found and lost love
Enough times to secure my spot in hell by now
I mean
My fear of death his hell enough
To love you as much as I can
Forgive my neuroticism
As I leave again
Finding myself where my fuckery leaves me
At lunch
With a friend
Who is equally awkward
As we make way to the wayside again
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 3:57 AM UTC
They said our 20s were supposed to be easy
They never said that i would have to
Count backwards from one hundred to
Curb a breakdown
They said sedation will calm you
Down
But no one ever considered
That my neuroticism is what gave
Me my power to write
No one prepared me for the nights
I dont remember
For the car accidents that happened
But never really happened
The accidents that only existed as scars
On my car
That my splintered mirrors
Only showed a fraction of my illness
I was never supposed to be the person
To leave the party early
Because there was an anomaly in the wallpaper
I was unable to ignore
No one prepares you for the enemies
You make of yourself
Or the holes in your memory
Where your dignity leaks out
I never knew I could tell the time
By counting my tears on my tile floor
And that springs of my
Bed would twang the sad anthem id never sing
Because i was bloated with
The probability that
My anxiety was
Scrawled on my skin
That my anguish was apparent
And my life floated in a glass
Half empty
And ever-transparent
I believed
No one would want to be with
Someone with so much baggage
I had to check in in order to get on a plane
Ive spent my 20s on the verge of
Implosion
I was never meant to
Crave sterility
And the absence of emotion
What if my mispoken words
Were perfectly aligned
With the trajectory of my life
And that I was meant to
Teach people
Through this story
That even the
“Wrong words come
Out right”
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
I want to write
About suns and moons
Stars
Being strong
Of rising above it all
But
It always comes back
To you
And you
And sometimes you
Rage and grief
Confusion
Neuroticism
Jealousy
So
I'll start there
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 2:39 PM UTC
so yeah,
i threw up thrice yesterday
let my fingers tip the trigger
& stroke my neuroticism
i just wanted to cheat:
synchronize my gut & brain
remove the abandon that
i fear with my entire being
lest it spread like a virus
yes, i’m ashamed of
that violent emptying,
of the maniac Itch that
takes ahold of me when
i feel i have no control
over the territory between
hope & disappointment
& these dramatic emotions
that render me so **** happy
but now,
i’ve begun to realize
that i can’t erase the past
& perhaps, it’s better to just
swallow my pride & place
my worth outside of what power
i may or may not yield, for
perfection is poison & i have
no right to demand it of you
nor myself
& no, i am not fragile,
although i may tremble...
i am strong now,
in part, having carried
all these heavy things
i've fed myself on for years
forgive you, forgive myself
& finally purge for once & all
of these habitual burdens
for i am full without them.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 5:37 AM UTC
Astonishingly crass and
Brave in all situations
Comfortable in all quandaries
Daring beyond belief
Elegant and poised
Furious and feisty, fueled by anger
Grand individuality with a
Heart of ice and hate
Irreverent and haughty
Jester of pride, sarcasm, and sass
King of bluntness
Lively, rambunctious spirit
Mastermind of
Neuroticism, never in
Oblivion because
Pressure cannot persuade me
Quick to speak out against the wrong for the
Right reasons but truly
Selfish motives
Tainting the
Ubiquitous notion that every altruistic attitude springs from
Very bubbly and confident people
Wandering through life with the Greek concept
Xenia exhibited on the sleeve
Yelling boisterous excitements that could a game
Zoning in on all the end goals
These are the misperceptions
That create me
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC