Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mosaic May 2015
I'm excavating your ribcage
Looking for answers
Of when things went wrong

I'm no mathematician or buddhist priest
But I'm really good at French toast
And overcomplicating myself

I convinced my coworkers I'm a vampire
Even though I'm vegetarian
The only kind of bloodlust I have
Is for loggers
(They took away my Mother nature)

I'm also really good at being over-dramatic
In a non serious way
You're wearing broken ankles on your wrists
How did those get there?

                                                         ­            Did you walk all over me
                                                              ­       With your hands
                                                           ­          Around my neck

Your hands were the noose that will pull the trigger and make me swallow all those sleeping pills so that people realize my pillows aren't made from the ocean

                                                          ­            You are that critical blow, K.O.,
                                                           ­            last breath,
                                                                ­      That push over the edge                                              

I'm really good at letting my
Scars be neon flashing lights
and/or ants that are
crawling,biting, poisoning
my memories

Letting my past,
                    Make me a Ghost of Today

I'm excavating your ribcage
And everything checks out
But I think you left your
heart at the train station
You didn't even say goodbye
(Start)
Divinity void at birth, grace gifted through a parents love, bestowed without warning, maintained without fuel. Security measures drawn, placed on potential porcelain tombs, and entrances unfit for entry. Soft spot guarded with a proficient level of tenacity, insuring life, and the maintenance of its quality.
(Stability)
Speech found, dolled out first in small dosages, replicating familiar terms. Footing discovered, despite quaking legs, still unsure of their design. In combination, a wonder tumbles forth, and empowers its creators with a sense of responsibility, and the need to secure a path in the world for their embodied prosperity.
(Dissolution)
Understanding drawn on a newly clarified society. Building and grasping onto fictions established to promote grounding and self-sufficiency. Day in, day out, the world expands, never contracts, overcomplicating itself among the generalities of everyday life, and everyday struggles. On the other side comes a curiosity in the form of confusion, demanding a translucent pictograph of intention and purpose.
(Reimagining)
Class starts with every other date, then expands until it consumes all but weekends, providing young, attentive eyes, with simplified understanding, all while slowly working to whittle away at the delightful fancy once taken up for the sake of fun. Aligned thought found in fellow participants working their way to the front of the feeding line, struggling to maintain the self as different views collide. A decade later, time to move on, and be separated from acquainted normality to draw from a new pen, and learn from a new set of rules.
(Disintegration)
Social circles established instantaneously, as a coping strategy for life in the wild. Evolutions of ideals and traits occur overnight, percolating to the surface before necessarily ready, as expansive thought draws away from fact, and onto experience, merging itself with a blue print stripped from an old socialites attic. Transgressions worth more than grades, as misconceived youths wander about for momentous occasions, misspelling and speaking in their retelling.
**(Re-entry)
Tempered blues played over megaphones in the high school gymnasium, as latent minded aristocrats, mocking and forging the appearance of Asperger’s, time out the cadence to meet without accord. Catatonic assembly line of carbon based replicas march in a circle, out of tune, winking at policeman, politicians…profits all the like. All this, while Aesop’s fables are shared to the collective of misty-eyed teens, in a speech of many words, but little point…Children, caged, redeemed, and finally reincarnated to match the product line being loaded into trucks, awaiting shelves; the new, meek breed of paper holders who once believed that education carried worth.
yue Nov 26
I wish that things didn’t have to be
So complicated between you and me
You love another so I stand there waiting at your door
You feed me scraps and I never ask for more
My head’s always overcomplicating
Every little flaw that I see is another reason you should stay away from me
And it’s sickening to know that I’ll have to live with always being on my own
But for now, you’re my ticket out of all the mess I have to deal with eventually
Not right now, not when you’re here with me

Loving you is like chasing the moon
What seems so close is still coming soon
Part of me knows this is pointless but my body’s moving on it’s own
And before I knew it, I’m relearning everything I’ve ever known

It’s such a simple thing to do, walk away from you
Just turn my head and make sure to avoid looking back
And yet I find myself stuck looking into your eyes
Hoping you’re also looking into mine and seeing what I’ve seen for months now
Deep down I know I’ll end up heartbroken
But you’re just too perfect, you could never break my heart the way others do
Probably the reason why I’m stuck with you

Swore not to fall too hard into something knowing I can’t get up
Call it what you will, call it what you must
Do I just like you or am I in love?
I can’t decide, but what I do know for sure
Is that I wouldn’t mind seeing you behind my door
We could laugh on my porch, freeze this moment in time
That’s when I can guarantee I’ll be feeling fine

Loving you is like chasing the moon
What seems so close will never come anytime soon
And I know this is pointless but all I can do is run
Hoping I’ll eventually catch up to a new someone
this one reads more like a song but i think it holds up? sorta? also, this is OLD old like from 3 years ago...
Justin S Wampler Feb 2021
Gave me quite a shiver
when she said that
sometimes two people
just like to rub
up against one another.

What a simplification
of something
that I've personally held
so sacred in my heart.

Maybe I'm overcomplicating
things.

I just hope she don't find
someone else
worth rubbing up against.

Ah, insecurities?
Or perhaps,
a fundamental difference
in beliefs?

******* is ******* I guess,
she's probably right.
***** is always *****,
no matter what the label.

I'm sure there's been
times when
I've ****** some broad
without consideration
for her feelings.
Right? Sure. Whatevs, yo.

I'm overcomplicating things.
Ramona plz step backkkkk
Star Gazer Feb 2016
They use to tell me that being a poet,
means being gifted and talented with words,
as though small simple words weren't heard,
We stray away from simple words that people know of,
To much more complex, intricate words like amorousness,
Because love can only be felt by overcomplicating the term,
As though love itself is an entity of no value can confirm.

— The End —