My headspace is a dichotomy,
A paradise for loathing crawlers to
Curdle their sharpened talons against
The feeble etchings vines scribble
Across once tamed and pasteurized
Boisterous sunflower field, containing
Dainty, delicate reflections of
Birthday parties, show and tell,
Even confessing to a wholesome
Admirer my developing devotion
Towards them, all this blushing humility
In an hourglass that could be manipulated,
Corroded in such an accessible manner.
These Beasts with salivating gums,
Their breath an erosion of indecisiveness
Laced with the addictiveness of misery,
A getaway taste that makes my fiendish
Sub-personalities junkies forevermore.
A mania for self-perfection discloses
Any repealing light that appears to
Stroll within my corridors, being
Flung as their waxen limbs melt away
Through the third eye of the imperially
Manipulated microscopic lens, as the buzzing
Decrees obsession as fatality.
What do they imply? a confident
Light skinned cub requests,
Asking rhetoric that only the preliminary
Can disclose as factual or incoherent,
The restrictive frequency pierces
My canals of transport, the inner inhabitants
Screeching, as I dislocate my jaw at the
Relinquishing overlay of drowning voices
In a riveting ocean of amnesia,
Suddenly, the Cub looks awe-stricken,
The hood he had been holding tightly
Around his neck swooning helplessly,
The nectarine haze of sky scape treading
In pus as a cyst verges to popping extinction,
The Cub sprints whilst sobbing, choking
On his phlegm, as the grainy floor splits
Against the forceful blow from up above.
A dreadful pale fist looms from the crack
In the amphitheater and lunges toward the
Impressionable Cub, snatching him, his tiny
Legs kicking, his larynx throbbing, with no
Avail at screaming, his airways closed amidst
The windiness his fragile body swims upstream
Against the current of the Ghoul.
He was hope in a dystopia filled with self-hatred,
He was the fuzziness my heart had felt, when receiving
Letters, being invited to shindigs, dancing
To my fullest extent against the vivacious strobes at
A college party, kissing a babe on the forehead,
When I fell into a rut, as if Creation had soared me
Between sharp edged pieces of Earth,
To play the role of a vagabond among my family
And once closest peers,
The Cub was left estranged, no home to call its own,
As it was being trailed away, the clawed, toothy fanged
Beasts chuckled methodically, calculating
The next plot of land it can reap and tarnish away at,
And what other hopeful signals they can spot out
In a field of sunflowers cheerfully, helplessly,
Vulnerably carrying on in oblivion.
My migraine fades away, the room spinning
Against the bleak black the bed frame makes
Toward the ajar door,
I concentrate my recovering head back toward the pillow,
And nod away until I return to quiet thoughts,
The humming still playing on loop
Even when the fan remains running.
YOU ARE READING
Shuttle Bus 17: A Poetry Collection
PoesíaPoetry from a discombobulated seventeen year old boy. From falling in love to hating parties to loving where you're from, I/you/he tries to truly understand life's prophecies through writing it all down.
