Coherence

Lost not Found

I sleep in landfill, 

amongst all the worms, 

letting sleeping wyverns lie.

I suppose the truth no longer hurts, 

when you've only ever heard the bitter one.

The one you hear with the wool pulled off your eyes.

The unfathomable but so hurtful truth,

the one that's so unavoidable but so specific, 

that it only entails one terrible ending,

one terrible demise.

I stare at the sun,

with eyes like these,

sunken with hate and oh so dead,

it burns.

It burns like forests burn,

when cigarettes and careless bonfires,

are left unchecked,

are left undesired.

It burns like hunger,

hunger that grows when I see parents holding hands with their child.

Forever disfigured I am just shy of whole.

Not quite the same, 

not quite something old.

I am composted and recycled,

thrown away and now composed of nothing but dead weight,

composed of half-finished hymns, 

and decades old expired hope.

So I sleep in this landfill,

this dump,

this hole.

Under the smog filled sky,

under the dying sun.

In a black holes graveyard,

is where I now roam.

Haunted by my loneliness.

When I am thought of,

it is without want,

without need.

A feeling so indescribable,

it would be called deja vu

but there is no word for me to be named,

how could there be when you can't even put a name to my face?.

But when you do remember me,

it is for when I am scorned.

For when I am lied about, 

and have been shoved in into the darkest place under your bed,

been promised I would be disposed of,

but lay dead in the depths of your closet.

Forgotten about and not mourned for.

Not even a footnote in your history,

just a passing phrase in the wind,

a lone bird in the sky.

I sit in a sea of the unused,

in the valley of the unwanted.

Watching and waiting for someone just as broken,

to see me and think I'm not just a tool to be disposed of.

To gaze upon me and think I'm not just a one hit wonder.

That I am more than a pony with one trick that is decrepit in its fading prime.

Because they have a million sayings about the rough and about diamonds.

I've heard them all,

I've repeated such words until my tongue has burned off,

until my teeth have become grit,

and my ears have bled dry.

I am no stranger to disappointment.

I am a friend of dismay.

We share drinks at dawn,

of an unwanted new day.

I look myself in the eye,

through a puddle of murky rain,

and I think to myself,

do I want to go away?

Do I want to wait for someone to come and find me?

To see me and think I'm to be repurposed?

Do I want you to see me,

and pity my insecurities. 

Like I'm asking permission to not be consumed by my repulsion,

that whenever I hear your words of repeated lines,

and old phrases,

I'm hanging onto your words of validation?

I find no joy in this,

my laugh is mirthless,

I am not a charity case,

just like I am not something just left behind your bookcase.

I have been thrown in the trash pile,

to be left without consequences.

I'm to be thrown in the compactor,

Just another building block for your next generation,

Just another horror story with a moral to warn others off from the path of my fate.

I am to be left in an unmarked grave,

letting the disfigured mark my death,

letting the rats eat my silence.

I am another cog in the machine,

already having been replaced.

For a newer more complete,

complex model.