Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Picking a scab so it won't heal
I tell myself my heart is made of steel,
A theory that fails every time I remember.
The tears blossom from my eyes, and fall to the ground,
Where they will bloom imitation sadness.
I chisel some thought out of my concrete mind,
Spit on the figure in the mirror and recall how hazardous
It is to get too involved in my mindset.
A great many things I could be, but I've not yet committed
To the shackles that sing around my wrists and keep me
Tethered to the misery in this world.
My eyes are sore from weeping, I see but am
Shattered like frail glass shards.
I do nothing but collide with memories and
I decide that I must hate them all,
For it is a slippery slope that I glide upon.
When I look within, I create a fantasy of
Desires never to be met but always to be burnt.
Deadlines loom nearer and my heart grows faint.
Not bad for a metal object, so cold that the heartbeat
Is not flutter but a boom.
I spew fleas of resentment in the air and laugh
When they fall in a shallow grave.Read more →
I chose whether the dirt covers them or buries them.
I'm an aimless wanderer in a world full of direction.
The best I can be is a chameleon; blending in with everyone else.
11-18-11
A theory that fails every time I remember.
The tears blossom from my eyes, and fall to the ground,
Where they will bloom imitation sadness.
I chisel some thought out of my concrete mind,
Spit on the figure in the mirror and recall how hazardous
It is to get too involved in my mindset.
A great many things I could be, but I've not yet committed
To the shackles that sing around my wrists and keep me
Tethered to the misery in this world.
My eyes are sore from weeping, I see but am
Shattered like frail glass shards.
I do nothing but collide with memories and
I decide that I must hate them all,
For it is a slippery slope that I glide upon.
When I look within, I create a fantasy of
Desires never to be met but always to be burnt.
Deadlines loom nearer and my heart grows faint.
Not bad for a metal object, so cold that the heartbeat
Is not flutter but a boom.
I spew fleas of resentment in the air and laugh
When they fall in a shallow grave.Read more →
I chose whether the dirt covers them or buries them.
I'm an aimless wanderer in a world full of direction.
The best I can be is a chameleon; blending in with everyone else.
11-18-11
Comment On This Poem ---
Picking a scab so it won`t heal
Picking a scab so it won`t heal
