"obsesses" poems
i'm slowing beginning to see a pattern appear
in the form of the everyday actions i carry out
as i open my window to eavesdrop on the bushes
whispered conversations in the breeze
as i change the guard of mugs and glasses
that stand watch on my bedside table
as my room obsesses over mess and grows attached to dust
and cobwebs
as i swim in a thousand pots of tea
as the night meets me at our corner between dusk and darkness
as he does since every day.
riding his bicycle
stars chasing wildly after him
and we are reunited once again
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
Ya’ll **** (Myself included, I said everybody, didn’t I)?
Forbes, a magazine for rich wannabes, says:
85 people control half of the world’s wealth (yet, nobody obsesses)
In my rural hometown alone,
that’d be the equivalent of a disembodied ****** hole
calling all the shots from a platinum throne inside the town hall
“Keep plowing! Keep selling! PLLLLLPPPPPP!
Sop up my **** with all those Benjamins, and bring the Russian ballet in!”
In between **** and brain rotters, everyone else watches ******
with his handsome silk hat on,
shake hands with the petty bourgeoisie in suits
Little lap dogs
licking up all the slimy brown Franklins
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love:
A girl that pities herself enough to think she is so intrinsically broken
she couldn’t even connect with someone biologically destined to love her;
A girl stupid enough to learn that love is a reward that she must earn,
yet frantic enough to always work too hard for it;
A girl that overcompensates. Begs. Forces.
A girl that claims she ‘Doesn’t know what to do with love’
when it comes along, so that, naturally, she can smother it;
A girl who’s biggest fear is abandonment, yet is an expert on expecting too much;
A girl that’s waiting to be saved, but would tell you she doesn’t deserve it;
A girl that still obsesses over ways she has been bruised
when surrounded by people that have helped her heal;
A girl who’s self involved, with no sense of self;
A girl that cries. And cries. And cries.
There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC
I close my eyes
But I can't close my ears
I still hear you
I hear the silence you leave behind
When you are not around
I try to focus
Can't calm my mind down
To a reasonable speed
All I can do to stop from spinning out of control
Is to breathe in and out slowly
Not knowing how you are kills me
Not talking to you changes my day from bad to worst
In an instant we could connect
But you need to breathe too
Deep breathing
We are caught in the undertow
Heads above water
Why don't we walk on it
Sometimes I imagine that you are right here with me
So many times my mind has wandered off
Letting the shadows on the wall give me hope
I cannot easily define myself
Or my feeling
I don't want to talk about it
I want to write these words out of my system
Flush it out
Flush it all down the toilet
Burn it up
Burn it away
I have had enough of this melancholia
I just want to be needed
I am an addict
Addicted to myself
And also to you
I am shaking
Breaking apart into pieces
The edges are fraying
And I am melting down into a pool
A puddle of loneliness and misery
I should be alright
I am young, so resilient
So tough, I can adapt
Life goes on
But I need you
I write for catharsis
Let it all bleed out
You would understand that
You understand the draw of draining yourself
For a moment of feeling
For a minute of reality
Let the pain set in
Let the world fade out
I am caught up in this
I am so scared of living
Too
Don't throw me away
That is just what I expected
I wanted you to be different
Not abandoning me
I am muttering obscenities
At the top of my lungs
I sometimes wish I was never born
But all of it has been worth it
Even if we are just friends
In the past
That made it worth it
You are that important
I am not saying I won't ever move on
I am not saying you are the best thing that will ever happen to me
Just, you are the best thing yet
Using the words
I
Love
and You
I realize do not matter
Because you already know
That I care and I am there for you
In any and every way
Kissing you, although it would be great
I could not do it
I would not die without it
No matter how much I want it
I am writing this in order to let it out
I will probably make this public
Just because that is my nature
But I do not expect a response
Or even an acknowledgement
Mostly I just need to talk to you
To know you are still alive
Even though it scares you
Even though it scars you
I am so self involved
So self obsesses
But so focused on the negative aspects
I eat myself alive
I am funny
I can write
I am tall
I am a good listener
So I don't want to worry about anything
I do not need to freak out
I don't need the anxiety
But if it comes with you
I would take it
In a heartbeat
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
She hides behind the blond dye in her hair
and the often-smearing black rings around her eyes
the greatest struggle in her life as of late
is in the groggy mornings, having to rise
out of bed to face the day and the people
she would really rather avoid
She is black and white
a pendulum
stuck swinging from one side
of the spectrum to the other
There is no gray
in her life, and so,
to compensate,
her mind short circuited
and sent fireworks to the sky
She tends to writing songs with names
that explain their purpose just outright
as if she knows she needs to help the world to understand
what’s going on inside her head, and to write
the names of bands she thinks are rather nice
along the edges of her wrists and hands
She drinks quite a lot of tea
for a girl of her size
and obsesses over bands and boys
she knows may never know her name
she spends most of her time
learning and writing songs on her guitar
and jotting down lovely ideas
for fantasies and wild adventures
She isn’t the type of girl
you think you would expect
but the things she does
surprise you,
and that’s all you really need
As unique a girl that she is
adds great moments to any day,
so search for them,
and cherish them,
because a girl like this
does not come as often as you’d like
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
Money and wealth
used to accompany class
Now more often than not,
it tends toward the crass
There used to be style
that went along with good luck
Now nouveau riche dogma
just passes the buck
The internet minions
and rappers galore
Litter our vision
as they buy out our stores
This newest gold standard
obsesses with bling
Their knowledge in tatters
they read not a thing
All intention is focused
on numbers that climb
Like lasers, they pierce
the mercurial dime
But time marches onward
for rich and for poor
Looking back, a past wasted
—ahead nothing more
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
The past manifests as a swift wind,
pulling me into a conundrum of clouded flashbacks,
marking the timeline of my life by the phases of the moon.
those illuminated images in my mind
distract me from my broken memories.
The sun would fall jealous at how I admired the moon…
resting high on a bed of clouds, without a worry,
worshipped by mortality-
Like how my mind obsesses over the moon's natural shimmer.
So divine...
and we are just mortals…
figurines below a sky of divinities.
I admit I can despise my mortality
and my daily mortal follies...
I wonder why my house is so cold
I wonder why you are so far
I wonder why i can’t see in color anymore
And the past, it taunts my mortal mind.
It hums the sweetest vibrations of superior light,
grasping me by the collar of my flesh,
Singing about everything i once was,
once had,
once loved…
The past took it away for it's own possession.
Perhaps that is what divinities do;
Possess our mortality.
Now it’s all gone,
and i’m a bitter old soul-cluster
who despises this flesh,
and radiates red that looks like grey,
and will spend my last moments of breath
searching for the illuminated face of the moon,
to bless me with the colorful love weaved into the memories of my past.
© 2016 D.M.V
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 11:44 AM UTC
The cold is my commander, it taunts me, while it steals my sheaths of warmer cleaving skin sections exposed by its notions and collected conscious. The sounds are complicated, the moons azurean hue resembles the coldness of my cigarette's embers blue, and then the commander shucks my final breath away. It isn't something that I barely feel, but rather something that lightly see. It's hoarfrost births its fickle shell of hardrime on the last of those interstices I once called my fingers. And from this choke, this frozen voice is detained by the vox ice amplifier that steals each noise. Besides, in an interruption I hear our whorish neighbors score of shouting scripted shouts, and screaming scripted screams. Each day she becomes less and less like any real human being. It's hard to believe that behind these walls that shield me from the albicant and atrocious heraldry winter casts me through, these sounds are concentric like limited Earth words written in the prompts that some ill and wanton succubus would. If only to lure herself from the pains she gained while lying to those amidst her closest ties. I am further distressed, though fully dressed narrowly watching bits of frozen water interlace themselves beneath freezing in the corners of my mind. When until the shaking and commandeering of my mortal sounds, disperse amidst the ferocity that Spring white snow absconds. The tremulent vocal chords are hailed by a hard-rimed **** who ensuingly rips the cantering spirit from each last place it stood. Only those who know this wind could speak about the way it genuflects and obsesses on these rules. This freezing genuflection hails to every servant of its rein, I can barely exhale the inspiration that rises from the head, until any skin exposed to air is reclaimed by my commander for good. Then each neighbor's head may lilt upon the piste, and pray for something more balmy than negative eleven degrees.
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 2:25 AM UTC
his crown is nothing more
than a head of messy brown hair he obsesses over
and his throne is just a desk that is always right next to my own
or the driver's seat of a silver honda civic, depending on the time of day
i twist words for him in every single waking moment
with pen in the margins of my philosophy notebook,
with the little voice in my head in the crevices of my mind,
and with my fingers on all my favorite spots of his skin.
i stand at his side, day by day,
simply observing, taking note, remembering the words and the gestures and the glances
so that future generations will recall the story
of his gloriously troubled beginnings
this king, this boy that you all write off as a pretender,
a usurper
he does rule
one kingdom
one tiny, minuscule, banal, five-foot-tall-redheaded kingdom
me
and one day my king will rise
he will rise, he will conquer, and we will be victorious
he will lead this kingdom that adores him so
and i will follow him into the war
that will either break us or entwine us
because i know that his majesty won't let
his kingdom fall
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
my best friend, brown hair and brown eyes
the one i'm always following around so i won't be alone
it's silly how i don't want you to be friends with
anyone else but me
it's sad how i care about my success over yours
it's surprising how you still talk to me
how to put up with all of my jokes and
my insults that i say out of insecurity
when will i ever find myself
a friend who obsesses over me like i obsess over you?
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Icy & Cloudy
A surface of snow on my glasses
Would it be a memory that obsesses
Me with a song?
You with a letter?
Hearing the rhythm of passion
In between a coffee cup
& Some kind sound of slow street
& A heart race at speed!
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 8:17 AM UTC
The sounds behind me fade away
As I slowly fall asleep
But when I open my eyes
I find myself in a dream
Here I am, in a crowded room
Full of cheering people
As I stand up in confusion
The floor tilts beneath me
I stare up at them
Finding that I'm shrinking
Or are the others getting taller,
Leaving me standing here, thinking?
Just as one steps on me,
I drift to another dream
Here I lie, in a shed
The door standing agape
The stars shine overhead
While my friend obsesses over tape
This is eerily realistic
In fact, this happened yesterday
Just as I realize this,
I drift back awake
And I stare at the window in surprise
Just outside, I see a note,
"Open your eyes."
So I do, and I find
That was only another dream
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
Greatness enthralls,
This merely obsesses.
In dark night's embrace,
You've become my all,
My shining satellite.
Twisting and turning,
I drink You deeper still.
Blinking and burning,
I'll never get my fill.
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 11:02 PM UTC
Hello?
There's echoes bouncing
off the clean white halls.
The needles are coming.
I'm climbing the walls.
The doors are all locked
but it's all in my head.
I can't get a line out,
the phones are all dead.
Hello?
Can you hear me?
Whenever I blink
I get blood in my eyes.
They say they are tears,
I say they are lies.
Your glittering sharpness
obsesses my heart.
They say that I'm bitter.
I say I'm a ****
Hello?
I think it's dead.
No. The line.
It's dead.
I scream at the warden,
**** YOU! Let me out!"
But the warden is in ME,
and the warden is doubt.
The doors are all locked,
but it's all in my head.
I can't get a line out,
the phones are all dead.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 2:42 PM UTC
You — lying on this surface,
Which does not exist and lost it's shape,
Absent as we should be,
Spending our ****** eternity,
Your dark hair all over nothingness,
Abyss which consumes and obsesses me,
As I search for an appropriate reason,
To touch and kiss what's left of my second Me,
Emotions through insanity,
They chain me and the future of my dreams remains obscure,
Why waste so much, when nothing's left,
But the whole creation is going nowhere,
Seeing this truth through your eyes closed,
Although never extracted, what you wished most,
This ethereal chain pulling me back,
As everyday's battle against myself,
And I can't tell,
Nor to force my words to gain their form,
Born to bear mistakes, bathe in pain,
Confusion is what I gain,
Got my eyes off of you,
Until I search my cold robe,
For some thing to destroy the last hope,
Wasting of nothing,
Creation of pain in the fake shadows of well-being,
Rather disappear like you now, in front of me,
Though untouchable and cannot set me free,
I stare at this cold skin,
Thought something stirred in me, within,
But the abyss got us both too deep,
Vanity,
It sets us free
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 12:19 PM UTC
Under starless and sincerity, he’s missing
The Sun.
He’s learned to lick. He’s learned to kick.
He’s learned and leaned a little left, *****
If only to obsess, ‘neath the neon.
Congruent pools of ***** and an empty
Arm, or two,
He taste time’s tick, but a lick atop arm,
And though his tongue’s somewhere south,
If only, he obsesses over neon.
Sure, the doors never close nor the sky’d ever
Know blue,
And ‘morrow’d be back. ‘Morrow’d relent.
‘Morrow’d release, ‘morrow’d excuse –
Smiling, he’d ‘ever obsess,
So quelled the neon.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
Frustrated by my own mistakes, unsure of my next decision. I am not sure where I should turn? Confused by bad choices and missteps, I wander around in my own thoughts looking for answers. In the turmoil of my own internal conflict, I obsesses over my emotions. It gets to the point that I begin to emotionally internalize my problems and shut down a part of myself. I then become apathetic and begin to border of depression. Trying to find a way back from the edge of despair, all because I am disillusioned with myself.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
It's hard to watch
the most brilliant woman
I have ever known slip away.
It is hard to watch her struggle to breath,
to see her too weak to sit upright,
exhausted by eating incredibly small portions of food.
It is hard to explain to her the confusion
that she experiences when waking up from sleep,
confused between her dreams and reality.
It is hard to listen to her tell us the things she sees,
which aren't real, as she obsesses needlessly over small things,
her hallucinations becoming apparent.
It is hard to hear her say
that she just wants to go,
because this is no way to live.
What is hardest, however, is knowing
that as hard as it is to witness,
it has to be much harder being her,
experiencing it.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
The feel of the vehicle, bitter from the night
Blue light on the dash
Whirring of gears as the glass rolls
Eight air fresheners hang loose from the mirror
Holding on to your memory
Grabbing for the pack of death
And lighting another nail in the coffin
reticence clawing at his ears
The memory of your mirth fueling the fire
Indigestion strikes like a knife to the side
Held by your slender hand
The laughter shared obsesses the heart
Beating with such vigor and plight
Mind tripping on compromised pasts
Tender is the ghoul from the nail
Circling his head like a noose
Bound by your memory
In remembering solace
To ease his concern
Taking comfort in his rusted cage
Seat embracing him
Upholstered in stained fabric
Shedding light on shadowed nights of old
His memory of you fades
No longer lancinating
No longer choking
In taking solace in the void that has become your memory
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
i am a slob and i live life oh yeah
being a slob of the century
you see i don’t shave because i don’t want to be a pretty boy
and i am a nice person but i can’t be clean
the more i try i have problems oh yeah
but i need to clean my house, so i will let my beard grow long
i can’t approve of little babies teasing
but i wanna be a man with hairs on my chin
come on pretty boy, tease me like a nerd teases a crazy person
cause i am a crazy person, oh yeah i am
i don’t believe in violence like you do
but i believe in being a crazy bearded ***** and hobo don’t you know
i stink i stink i stink i really really stink, people say i am smelly, but i don’t care
because dude oh dude i am a crazy person who believes in previous lives can’/t ya see
i could be like mr bean, but he is too clean
he obsesses about it, why should i
why am i treated like the worst enemy of you
i always liked patrick, but i hate him siding with lyle
cause he is a bloke with anger management issues
with me oh me, i have no problems at all
apart from the fact, that i do smell
i just had a shower but i don’t wanna shave
cause only little pretty boys shave, and i am no little pretty boy
my beard suits me to a tee, i am a cool person
and if anyone says i am not cool, they can kiss my curvy **** GOODBYE
you see i like doing art, doing art is cool, and if that makes me a loser
well to them i am a LOSER, but i am a winner who loves being artistic
pat and lyle seem shy to me, all they do is drink cups of tea
i liked patrick way back then, but i thought he didn’t like bullying, cause bullying is wrong
i don’t **** people off ya know
ooh ooh ooh it might start to snow
i smell, but i can clean up
i have a messy house, but i will clean it
i will probably see losers teasing me, i can handle it
I AM RADICALLY AWESOME DUDE
i cause happiness in canberra, i am the christmas man
the cool kids man, cause cool kids muck around mate ooh ooh ooh
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
It finds me when i sleep
And when i am awake
It hunts me down
And calls my name
It takes me with its claws
Holds me down
And takes my breath
Someone take this beast out of me
It's killing me
Like a demon it obsesses me
Turns off my memory
Shuts out everyone i know
It resets my whole brain
And leaves me with pain
Untill there's nothing left but fear
I fall to the ground
And crumble
I feel like exploding
All i do is weep
This sits so deep
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 4:40 PM UTC
She's the girl in denial about her addictions,
She grew up with ****** parents
He's the guy who obsesses about a hateful world,
His parents divorce had stripped him of all hope
She's the girl who looks callously into your eyes,
Her mother abandoned her for days on end as a child
He's the guy who treats girls like toys,
His mother never paid him much mind
She's the girl who has walls up as high as the Wall of China,
She was molested by a family member
He's the guy who never speaks much,
He was bullied ruthlessly in middle school
She's the girl who stings you with her sharp tongue,
Her mother verbally abused her and as a result she has little self worth
He's the guy desperate to find someone to love him,
Because he wants to convince himself that he won't fail at love the way his parents failed at their marriage
She's the girl who everyone calls an attention seeking *****
That's the way she learned to cope with a lack of affection at home
He's the guy who flakes on genuine love,
His ex fiance shattered his heart and left without saying goodbye
I'm the girl who writes and observes others,
Trying my best to keep my mind off of my own anxieties.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
We Are In It Together
You change the land
you change the sky
a mile down
a mile high
The message is transmitted
through the trees,
it whispers
on the blowing breeze.
They speak together
of a growing brute,
on the wind
and from root to root,
of The Man
whom eats the fruit
and obsesses
over shiny loot.
Only to one another
their language speaks,
they've forgot the sound
of nature's beat.
But oh, they love
banging their drums
So, the clouds distort
the setting Sun.
The Air brings forth
a deadly storm,
Heaven's bells,
as if to warn -
The Earth, too,
tries a trick,
making all
the ecosystems sick,
making whole species
completely disappear
but The Man shows
little sign of fear
And so, I say,
I have to learn
To speak to Sunshine
and the wise old Fern.
I hear the conspiracy
of our demise
and on my knees
I start to cry.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 6:38 AM UTC