Watching intently as the
intricate framework of
your core identity
falls to pieces
at your feet
is a process
that tends
to be
at once
both as
rewarding
and painful
as it sounds
Knowing
that all
which you
treasured
yourself for
is slowly coming
down in torrential
cacophony leaves one
with limited options
as to what comes next
either the scrambling
to save whats left of it
or resigned relinquishment
to the rest of who you
thought you were
Sitting there amid the clutter
gazing at nothing in particular
the patterns begin to emerge
reverse engineering your
decay and corruption
looking back to the
erosion and ill repair
that led you faithfully to
where you happen to be right now
Sometimes the revelations
that come without thoughts
are the ones worth heralding
and others which come with
much ponderous rumination
and deep contemplation
turn out to be just
rehash of that
same old tried
and true nothings
whispered by the mouths
to scared to speak their
own words to tell the truth
Author notes
a shitty poem for a crappy time... more like crappy mental stuff
you can call me crazy but tell me why you think so.....
Comments
-
I
will
never know
how you get
your thoughts
to make such
a shape on
paper's
that
you
.....let others see......
The stream of conscious feel to this is both intimate and distant at the same time. You open the reader up to hear a very personal train of thoughts, but it feels almost as if you’re using that proximity as a trick to keep them distanced to what’s going on behind the feelings, to what created them.
-If we’re focusing so closely on the words on the screen, then we’re staring at virtual ink on non-existent paper, and the writer may fade into the glow of cyber space-
I like the honesty… but maybe my collection of thoughts have nothing what so ever to do with yours.
If this is the case, then I apologize.
Excellent work.
Adding your comment:
