Familiar Folks

Familiar bonds deep engrained

Exclusively expressed in obligatory superficiality,

As unspoken words of affection

Felt and understood in every awkward glance and gesture.

Lifetimes of re-enforced sentiment

Spent in care-free novelty and tumultuous tribulation.

Loyalty in our devoted blood

Rewarded only in our collective facile interaction.

 

Incapable as we are

To satiate our needs for attachment,

We gather nonetheless

To empower our familiar bonds.

Between our solemn personas

We’re tied to chains of intimacy,

Holding us together

As our identities are weighted down.

 

What She Should Know

She was only just a child

When I was just a child.

We’re only children now

Even though we’re fully grown.

I needed some restraint

And some love when I was younger.

I have what she could give,

What she lacked I have become.

Fighting, fussing, killing time,

Self-obsessed, neurotic, home.

Child, mother, still a child,

Help me learn to be alone.

My hereditary depression

Cannot help but look at you.

Floating on in your distress,

Not a clue what you should do.

Look at me for worthiness,

Someone who you loved and made.

Shouldn’t I look up to you?

Is this part for me to play?

Maybe so, I’m coping better

Than you ever learned to cope.

With all that I could hold against you,

I don’t want to see you choke.

There for me, not there for me, matters little anymore.

Maybe you’ll feel better if you found something to live for.

A Brief Summation Of Feelings

I feel tired, worn out, and exhausted.

Ageing faster than my mind is maturing.

Unceasing stimuli of sporadic thought,

Insomnia, sleepless daydreams occurring.

I feel drugged, comatose and stupid.

Staring endlessly, seeing nothing outside.

Contemplations rearranging my perceptions,

Creating illusions and epiphanies I must abide.

I feel thoughtful, diligent and wise.

Evaluating and measuring all intuition.

Life examined, dissected and simplified,

Knowing the rhyme and reason of decision.

I feel angry, agitated, and upset.

To be known, disregarded or misunderstood.

Inconvenient, unrealized, undesired,

Willing, but unable to slow if I could.

I feel like friends and family ignore me,

Avoid me for the sake of comfort and peace.

I feel like they cannot acknowledge,

I know them better , and my intuition won’t sleep.

I feel Isolated,

I feel like talking to you and hanging out because I’m Isolated,

I feel like talking to you and hanging out for three hours then going home so I can be Isolated.

I feel like I want to be with you,

I feel like I miss you and that we should never be together.

I feel like it’s a missed chance,

I feel like I’m glad we missed it, we’re better off,

But I still miss you.

I feel like there’s nothing to say,

Like you’ll see what I mean when I’m ready.

Like I’ve been waiting a long time, growing and changing,

And you’ll soon see what I’ve created.

I feel like heartache,

Like if I wasn’t so cold I’d be bleeding,

If I hadn’t been numbed at such a young age,

Like I would be helpless and bleating.

I feel untouchable,

Like it’s almost too late for me to ever feel vulnerable,…

 

I feel love for you,

And I’m not cruel enough to dismiss it.

If I suffer for you,

I can’t complain for forgiveness.

If you suffer for me, I promise not to forget it.

Looking at Us – my first real poem

I look at Us – Us as in a unit of measurement, unused to anything less than surface level attachments.

We who share a meaningless experience every year and call it bonding, as though bonds were only material.

As though DNA, and being raised, are debts to be re-payed, and anything less is nonsensical to communicate.

I need depth – as in more space with which to relate. I can’t create attachment within surface level space.

Understand this – I know why this lack of space exists. I’ve analyzed and think I’ve diagnosed our neurosis.

We’ve existed for years un-acknowledging each other’s existence. We’re well practiced in pretending we have no inner substance.

Unless of course we’re mad – that’s when we feel comfortable right? And free enough to express our discontent with life.

Sensitive as we are, we could easily arrange a fight. Perhaps we need the chance to strike each other with our spite,

But I’m not even angry, I just think that if we’re joined, we should make some space between us or there isn’t any point.