A Poetry Poem

I wish I could express

In speech as I do in writing

How much I feel about you,

How heavily I care,

How deeply you affect me,

And everything that means.

Mind to mind,

Or empathy to recognition,

In terms of verbal exchange

Is apt to be uncomfortable.

You can read my poems

And feel me more fully

Than you ever could’ve felt me

Face-to-face.

Extrordinary circumstances

Might expose our true emotions,

But the mundanity of self-consciousness

Prevents a simple telling.

I can try,

And occasionally do well,

But I’ve little hope of equaling

The context of the written word.

I love you.

The Weight Of Melancholy

The melancholy burden that I’m bearing

Like the nihilists famous heavy stone

Struggling arduously up every day’s mountain

And every night clinging to the point where I fall

Romanticized masochism  is a strange comfort

It only works outside the moment of pain

Inside the laborious hours of my punishment

My greatest strength is to appear numb and vain

Disguising every feeling but my vile contempt

Hiding every weakness but for the fact I’m weak

Clinging to attachments but never hold them down

Never allowed outside me, but pining for release

Stoic, like a martyr without any good cause

Proud, as if shame were not prides real cloak

Damaged, un-admittedly as though it weren’t obvious

Sad, for everyone to see and for no one to know

If the hills were hollow I could sleep in them

Instead of tumbling down every jagged plateau

If madness and the void were reconcilable

I could easily have done what I’d supposed

I cannot feel glad for Sisyphus

It seems stupidity is an inherent fate

And I cannot lament my tragedy

Not while I continue to dig my grave

I could easily suffer better for forever

And hope that someone feels for me and sings

But could I relinquish struggling and just show you?

Would you survive through all my secret dreams?

 

 

 

 

I Wish It Would Rain

I wish it would rain

Bittersweet tears from a crying sky

As midnight’s chill air envelops us

With cascading droplets of emotion

Expressing my emotions for me

 

Ominous thunder like an angry God

Bellowing passionately into the dark

And lightening for sudden illumination

Brilliant supernovas of distress

Etching my sentiments into the clouds

 

A microcosmic apocalypse just for me

A turbulent release to set me free

A tantrum, a meltdown, a melodramatic wailing

Goetia, an epic symphony of lament

Just to ease me

 

Settle my repressed distress

And cleanse these unrelenting thoughts

Express this damn chaos for me, please

I wish the sky would cry

Its tears lulling me to sleep

 

Give Up Or Go On

The drive of life wants to kill me.

Regrets, desires, and most profound depression,

Tormenting every idle second of the day,

Strangling emotion and distorting my perceptions.

All these lovesick and battered human-beings,

These patient sufferers and aggravated beasts,

Painfully clinging to their needs and desires,

Everyday pushing their will until it breaks.

These heart-broken, lonely, and distressed human-creatures,

Desperately striving for some comfort and love,

Vulnerable and exposed for those who would use them,

Forced to be strong, to be brave, to be thought of.

Why don’t they collapse and refuse to get up?

Why don’t they stop and just scream “That’s enough!?”

Why, when they do, do they still cling to life?

Why are we defined by the things that we fight?!

It feels like the drive of life wants to kill me.

My sicknesses and struggles still pound in my head.

Disappointments, failures, and bloodletting traumas,

Unceasingly torture me. I’m alone in my bed.

 

Alone… Frightened… Starving and weak.

 

Then I remember how much we’re the same.

I realize what little self-worth we live in.

I realize how pained I’d be if you ever gave up.

I’ll go on for you, because I want love to win.

 

 

 

 

The One That’s Hanging

Blind, with an overpowered sense of smell,

The one that feeds on the diseased.

Sliding in and out the gates of mental health,

Recycling flesh from the depressed and deceased.

The worm, a gargantuan behemoth,

An omnipresent filter of the lost.

Endlessly seeking the scent of suffering,

Transference of feeling at energies cost.

So the child in the trees, that one that is hanging,

The one that’s dripping wet with remorse,

That sways listlessly in the torrential rain,

With the seductive scent of suicide dispersed,

Attracts the sightless hungering mouth,

Who surfaces from the Earth to be fed,

Whose bloated body consumes her corpse,

Satisfied, swallowing the saddest of the dead.

The casualties caused by tormented minds,

The sick, the unstable, the neurotic and depressed.

The casualties consumed by the careless and blind,

Basted unwittingly in the flavors of distress.

The one that’s hanging and dead in the trees,

The tantalizing sadness that floats on the breeze.

The one who gorges on those passions released,

The final transference, Flesh and Feeling, it Eats.

 

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.