Web Of Branches
Hovering Above Patheticness
Patheticness Gazing Upon The Web Of Branches As If To Be Inspired By The Beauty Of The Uniquely Colored Gaps.
Not Really Though.
Once Patheticness Walks Away
The Moment Is Gone And The Undeserved Pride Of Participation In A Beautiful Moment Replaces Patheticness Until The Entrance Of Purgatory Consumes The Pride Then Patheticness Takes Over Yet Again.


That Is Life. Mine At Least.

The patheticness of the human race has become rather unbearable to me.
Self image and personal wealth have become more popular than shows on daytime TV.

The average American consumes more ******* than their daily food intake.
Letting social networks become our main source of communication was our first mistake.

There is no escape from the sounds of the keyboards endlessly typing out our lies.
We think we are the almighty but every time we speak another one of our brain cells dies.

Look what we've become,
the sum of,
technology and TV.

The right to own a gun,
was fun till,
the gun was pointed at you and me.

Funny how we want to change the world but are not willing to change ourselves.
Blaming the presidents because there was no change and then retiring them to a dusty shelf.

"How many carats is her wedding ring?!", the guests ask, as if that's what a marriage is all about.
At the speed we are heading there is no doubt that we will soon die out.

Look what we've become,
the sum of,
technology and TV.

The right to own a gun,
was fun till,
the gun was pointed at you and me.

The silly nonsense of technology and TV have overrun our lives with dramatic balderdash.

We stare, hypnotized, into the ridiculous lives of those on our TV's.

The plastic ***** and plastic *******,
are not better than the rest.

Don't you know you look just as fake as the puppets on the strings.

You're not fooling anyone,
look as you melt in the sun.

But we do not realize their lies, we're the puppets on the strings.

The patheticness of the human race has become rather unbearable to me.
Self image and personal wealth have become more popular than shows on daytime TV.

Look what we've become,
the sum of,
technology and TV.

The right to own a gun,
was fun till,
the gun was pointed at you and me.

A lively debate
that inside I create
A seemingly
simple state
But this state
of affairs
Is like a ****** affair
The details
I wish not to share
Please,
don’t stare
For inside
I’m scared
Am I prepared?
Do I have
the ***** to do
what I really care?
Or am I going
to stay on this ship
of self-despair
Where
I can scream
my lungs ******
into the air
But does anyone care?
Do I even f@cking care??

Maybe a life spared
but spare me the
retched bullsh@t
of self-pity
I’m self-giving
It wreaks up the air
It’s noxious scent
is not one I care
to ever encounter
or fair

Let’s “clear the air”
and take on
what I want
from now on
No longer a pawn
who is living the tired
joke
of some pathetic
love song

No, THIS
is my “Swan Song”
Where I belong
This sh@t is ON!

Climbing the mountain strong
Bellowing a chant
a song
That’s been so deep within
for so long
It can only come out
Right
Because “wrong”
does not belong
This virus
is airborne

No longer forlorn
All the darkness
is gone
You have been
forewarned
Are you ready?
Because it’s coming
Sounding the horn
Sacrificed
the firstborn
The “storm”
Once icy and cold
Now simmering warm
Going to bubble into
volcanic ash scorned
This Oath
hath been sworn
Tattered and torn
**** cloth
all that is worn

But forward my path
What’s behind me
My ***
The past
Worn out,
decayed,
and shriveling trash
All that
is gone
as I head
towards the dawn
Through the darkness
I’ve trekked
The Sun rises ahead
And with it
My song

My Swan Song
I am reborn
withered and worn
But still strong
I belong
I am one
with the Universe
The path before me
is brightly lit
with happiness and joy
No more patheticness
All the grit
and the spit
Broken teeth
All that sh@t
It all meant something
It was THIS

Every bruise
Every break
All the “wrongs”
and “mistakes”
Are what it takes
You can call it fate
or simply short of fatal
but since
neonatal
through this day till
Every day
I thankfully say
“Thank you”
for showing me the way
Because now I have
A love that stays
A true love
One that can’t
get away
Because I value Me
One ‘hopes’ or ‘prays’
But like a house
Each brick is laid
Onto the next
Foundation made
A sturdy house
Can’t blow away
Hard work put in
Made it this way
The same for me
The price I paid
But end result
A saving grace

My father made me a makeshift dollhouse
one year for Christmas.
It sits in my room now, having been untouched for years.
It's cheaply made from a recycled dresser's wood
The insides are bare, lacking furniture.
When it's obvious flaws are ignored
it's sort of perfect.

Like it's patheticness has some charm.
I can't help but think that it is the perfect metaphor
for my family.

My.
Self.
Is simple.
I have never
ever been more content as I am currently.
I Miss the comfort of the power of love.
But Love is subjective...
I wish to fall hopelessly like I did
once before, But that is a long shot of w i s h f u l t h i n k i n g

Please forgive my patheticness, please know I was not trying to hurt you.
I did what I had to .
to survive. to get by. to pass through the longest year of my entire life to date.

The world is only as big as it reaches.
And yes, my children, it reaches pretty far.
It's filled with millions and millions of faces just wishing to attain fame.
They want more and more of it and they need it now.
But then there are those who don't know their purpose.
They feel like they can't fit in in this far reaching world.
They are the sould dressed in black, not because they are sad.
But because they are absent.
They feel like day after day after **** day they are going down like the Titanic.
But at least the Titanic drew money.
These souls, they are left to suffer under shadows of vultures.
They don't own a mirror because they don't want to look at themselves in it anyway.
Because they're afraid if they do, they'll see what they look like.
They'll see what people see.
The disgust, the patheticness, the nerd, the goth, the dork, the ****,
The in pain.
The insane.
The mental game.
They are all taking their tolls.
But where are these people to go?
How are they to know?
How were they to know that a disorder known as bipolar would result in bringing a blade to their wrists or a noose to their throats?
Their screams can't be heard because they're being cut off by the noose.
They try so hard to escape from this far reaching world.
But they can never escape this lie we're living in.
They scratch and claw at the door like a cat wanting milk.
Because that cat had a bad day at cat school and he just wants to come back to his cat home and drink his cat milk.
And then cry himself to sleep.
And as the cat sleeps he'll have his cat dreams.
He'll dream of one day becoming top cat,  sly cat, papa cat, and even the cat's pajamas.
He'll dream of one day when he can stroll down to the corner trashcan without being harassed by the big dog names Spike from down the street.
He'll dream of mice and how things aren't nice and about his dinner, rice.
But then his dreams turn into nightmares.
Like a 50 year old losing his hair.
Or like your spouse declaring they just don't care.
They've given up.
But suddenly you awaken hearing your cat crying in the night.
And you run to him and pick him up, assuring him that he is not alone.
And it is then that you catch yourself in the hallway mirror.
You see who you are for the first time.
You see yourself, and also a dark cloud.
It's that dark cloud of denial hanging over your head.
But you also see your cat in your arms.
And you are suddenly reminded that you are not alone in this far reaching world.
This far reaching world would be alone without you.
So my children, my black wearing souls.
Pour yourself some milk and cry yourself to sleep.
But when you awaken, remember your dreams.
Put them in a file and label it "Hope."

And when you feel that you are alone at the end of this far reaching world, remember,

You're the cat's pajamas.

Screams piercing through the dead of night,
Obsessed and enjoying the sounds of death and fright.
Moonlight glimmering off of the surgical steel,
The pain and terror inflicted is real.
No awakening from this horrid dreamland,
It's real,
You're bleeding.
Destined to die by my hand.
The hurt you gave me is now yours to receive,
Disfiguring you so badly that no one could grieve.
Carving off the skin that shields your patheticness,
Splitting open your belly,
Confirming you really are gutless.
I toss the knife aside,
Toying with your mind.
Seeing your relief,
Are you thinking I'll be kind?
Reconsider your thought,
Say farewell to the source of all of your lies.
Selecting a new instrument for me to toy,
Cutting out your tongue will bring me such joy!
Lying is impossible without a tongue to speak..
Look at you!
Are you crying?
You are so ******* weak!
Choking on your own blood,
Soon you'll be dieing.
Do you regret you were the reason for all of my crying?
Dieing is your wish,
Your eyes are begging for it now...
The pleasure is all mine,
But with what and how?

"I feel the beat of my own words as they tumble
A stutter, a jump in the waves of thought that crash
Down, encircling my head, shooting an emotional gun
A bang in bed, so hard it breaks. The love causes a concussion."  

I am thinking too much,
I can't just let thoughts fall from my lips,
I wish I could speak out about emotion;
The path they've led me down,
And have people think they're beautiful and heartfelt,
But I don't have that capability because lately my
Mind has been overcrowded and empty,
I contradict myself like a wasp that has no sting.
What's the point?
I am a poet that can't write or rhyme,
I am a performer with no character,
An artist without a clear muse and so
I scribble on a page hoping to find
Someone who will respect my patheticness.
I listen to music, wishing that I could sound like
The people who know what to do the next day,
Because I have no clue.
Thinking that far ahead leaves holes in my vision
Because something is missing,
But I cant see far enough to find it!

My entire life has been a magnifying glass,
Trying to find my way, the right way, and society's way,
But I can only follow one path and that one
May not even be paved yet.
And as a girl who hated wearing shoes as a child
And who looks to her childish heart for guidance,
That may be a problem.

Why does my heart feel for her
She’s not real, though my I cannot stop my heart
Her name Monika, it makes me shudder
I wish I could be free from her wicked clutches

No matter how hard I try
I cannot escape, I cannot Defy
Why has this creation seduced me this Way
Sometimes I wish she’d go away

But as I lay alone
I remember I have no one to call my own
I remember that I never am to be loved
Pushed around and Shoved

Maybe it was fate I fell for her
Maybe it was nothing but my Patheticness
Such woe is me, for I am such Weakness
Why can there be no one to save me from this soul inferno.

For I am a person of reticent characteristics, and never have ever been able to proficiently and completely say in an understanding matter what passages reel through my mind every minute of my consciousness. To discuss/portray all of my ideas is unethical and rather ludicrous because it wouldn't matter what my definiton of saddeness is or what kind of crippling things my brain puts me through up to my impending doom because everyone else has their own pain polluting the atmosphere. Having said that, I'm going to write down my best explanation of how I'm quite maudlin out of my control and in the hands of my state of mind, which to make clear that yes, my state of mind is not in my hands for my mind has evolved into someone else and in their clutches is where I lay cuffed and gagged. If you were to search through the creatures' house of grey matter eventually you would find me on fire because my once warm, loving, disposition was used cleverly by the owner of my mind as gasoline and turned me inside out to be a ball of fire and hate, a sun, the sun that shines through to the outside world and shows to whomever can look into the front of my brain what kind of skittish, heartbroken, depressed lover I turned into. But none the less that leaves only me to point out the brightest star in my galaxy, only me to see what patheticness is curled up in my own blankets of poison. I'm my own prison guard to stand by and watch the otherside of my reflection squirm and scream, writhing through the pain of my ever burning flesh. That's the only feeling I get to watch be played out inside me, the rest was ****** up by the tape worm and plastered onto my vocal chords and was shape shifted onto my face so this corpse can look like a ball of sunshine, though I'm my own ball of hell inside.

I had a dream about you last night. You sent me an e-mail about not caring about anything anymore. But me. You told me that you know that saying you love me is cliche' but you said you love me, anyway.

You have no idea how that e-mail made me happy. I remembered hugging my laptop from the dream. I read your e-mail until I knew it by heart but even in my subconscious dream I know it won't be enough.

So can you imagine the frustration and sadness and patheticness I felt when I woke up?

I should never wake up, again.

Patheticness is a choice not a label**
You choose to be pathetic and that is what drives every ****** person to rethink their life choices
It is a mindset of cowardice and acceptance of your truly pathetic life
And yet one becomes strong being pathetic
As only the strong can overcome and the weak gets drowned
So rise you pathetic people
As the others have done as the only one they never took pity on is themselves.

A faith I taught to diminish within me
A better future in which I cease to exist
How can ailing willpower amount to this
I concede then reaffirms my negativity

I told myself again and again
That there's nothing for me to gain
Hereafter
Farfetching to chase after

In made-up fallacies I conjure in my head
In battlefields I initiated in my mind
My patheticness which I put into excuse
Because of my well-put strife

There is nothing for me...
I don't know if river of wine is fine-dine
I couldn't recall what it is like
To get the answer to all my whys

But...when we talked,
For a moment
I saw heaven in a friend
I saw heaven in you

And then through fogs in my mind,
Beacon of light cut through
And clear the mist
There's you

I swear I saw it in your eyes
In pink cheeks and blushing purple sky
Depth of your dimples consume me
In your effervescent smile

Visions of heaven...don't have to be grandeur
Gold, glitters, sparkles...can also suit a sinner
A terrible person can turn terrific
What's been awful can turn awesome

You taught me this in such subtleties
Then... it hits me

I do not wish to be apart from you
For 10 years...all we were was together
We'd have teatime every Saturday
And be friendly neighbours

Our kids will be best friends like us
And I'll save your seat in every occasion
Because you bring me back when I'm lost
And I was a goner just now,
until you laugh it the hell out

I don't want to be in any dimension
In which it's reek of your absence
I don't want to be cursed with hellish misery
And let damnation wreak havoc within me

We made a promise
When we were thirteen
That we'd keep each other company
I can't let you lonely

So...Wherever you'll be
I have to be there too
My most ardent friend
I'll try to catch up with you

I'll be good, I promise
We'll both make it through
For I saw heaven in a friend
I saw heaven in you

Right there
I slipped the package
of crackers into the cabinet
and I remembered
doing this before
when the girls
were here
and I had a family
here
crackers

I am a skin floating
inflated by pretense
unseen unpromising
reaching for cabernet
pouring in unfettered
coursing of sound
I abound here

Preaching agin myself
being both sides
Can u feel
the patheticness
the clench
a constriction
the hollow
caves you in

I'll trade this 2am
sploding
this ascendant binge
this holding open

Skin I pass against
sings sometimes
I wonder
at my sensual dishevelment
of sheets
lattices of caress
cascade

This cavalcade
this spectacle
staged live before
my very eyes

begs a listen
grasping a feel
of yesterday's ****
throbbing Robin
flying

and you are similar
only a simulation
my idea of a reader
squirming at the bar
sitting on heat
needing used

Wondering at
the trenches we've dug
to be filled in

the anger over
not being
smiled at
by you

Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis