3-8-17
Odds,
Constantly racing against us
Like rats on a wheel,
But the worth is still distant
And the apathy is treading below.
Don't you dream like I do?
Oh please,
Shallow lover,
Tell me this depth is understandable.
Do you wake up
And look in the mirror
With nothing but the thoughts
Of every line snorted
Into your sinuses
In a gas station bathroom,
With dirt on the walls?
Do you inhale sharply
Like oxygen is just glass,
Crystals breaking and out for blood,
Haunting the night
As the chandeliers burn?
Do you carve into shoulder blades
With stares
They only notice
With an unavoidable sense?
Do you control things you don't touch?
Do you throw your trust in the trash
Like the cloth of a nosebleed
And do you pray for murder,
Thinking there's no other way the stars wrote your story?
This is the way out?
Oh but is this the way out?
Drop to your knees
And talk slow for me now,
Because I haven't said a word.
Do I look fine?
Fuck it,
I just need to feel fine,
So I warm the layers
Like my facade is a heater,
My fingernails glow red,
My skin tells you lies.
You must be stupid,
To believe it all,
Or perhaps I'm ahead too much.
What is it I'm seeing that you don't?
Cycles,
It runs in cycles.
There's dirty change,
From some hooker upstairs,
Hitting the glass of the washing machine.
Spin me off
And take my soul like liquid detergent.
I've figured it out,
So I smoke a couple rounds
And decide it's all revolving.
Grab the revolver
And grant access to power.
But I'd never use it,
Oh god,
Life will fuck them over anyways,
They'll die in oblivion and ignorance.
Who am I to decide life spares them?
Repetition is what we're after,
Searching for something to fill the voids
Of dead brain cells,
Like worm holes to an apple,
Although there's no telling what kind of depth it's got.
Self infliction is one hell of a drug.
Chase chase chase,
But we're not getting anywhere,
I'm the only one who traces the problems,
Cracks in the system.
Where's the sun for somebody like me?
Where's my freedom,
Where's the good life?
Ignorance is bliss,
This I know,
And if I don't get out,
I'll believe it's worth it.
- (m.m)
I need to write something absolutely unappealing to balance out bc lately i haven't been doing a whole lot of that.
YOU ARE READING
Self Deception
PoesíaPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
