Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

God's Special Infestation

Passion is dead.
Romance killed it with overzealous ideals
And practices,
yet they all encourage me to feel;
They all encourage me to love,
But my heart houses a hole,
And all my love has
Fallen through it, getting caught
In a passing breeze that
Helps it to dissipate in the invisible air.
How many ways to melt?
we are humans, not icicles,
Yet we spend so much of life
In a puddle of sensitivity,
Getting drunk off of our rehab on life,
Failing at living as though
Each day were our last, but we live
As though we know our death
Wasn't for years.
We're humans, pathetic and ruined
Before our feet hit the ground.
We are always wishing ourselves away.
We're erroneous and always there.
We never disappear.
We are god's special infestation.
Running around in
Aimless circles searching for something
Unknown and dead to us.
We're a bit more evolved
Than rats in a maze,
But not by much.
We reflect on our lives at
The age of thirty,
Feeling as though we've given all
We could possibly give, well,
I'm not like you.
I'm a trembling fool lost
In her thoughts and your thoughts and
I don't bother with the crowds,
I take the high road.
I pass you all by, traveling miles
To surpass you and even lap you, and
Where has that led me?
To a society of people
Known only as hell, and
Treated as though they were
Minions of the underlords, well,
They are and I"m not and
I'm searching for individuality
In the same books as everyone else,
Getting lost when I stop to smell the roses.
I rustle up some dares and
Play russian roulette with
Incapacitated minds, losing each time.
I'm just like you,
Which makes me so unlike you all
In pretty much every way.
I'm in the human race...
And I'm f---ing losing.

August 6th, 2007

Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
God`s Special Infestation

316,186 Poems Read