Thoughts are intruders,
Strangers lurking through
Tinted windows, to stifle
My breath, inhaling as
My mouth is coaxed around a
Plastic bag, wires draped around
My dangled fists, as the bath water
Rises supremely to my nose,
Submerging the follicles in my
Nostril, powering on the electric
Unit, power coursing through
My neutrons as they are blazing,
As I am trembling, though the
Water is increasingly hot, the
Wires tapering in overlaying
Hisses, zigging, zagging,
Alone inside my shed, when a bolt
Of potential action slithers its
Provoking question in my ear,
Entangled in its spiny index,
Wrapping myself in my nightcoat,
I ease my head back and walk
Outside, the piercing lightning
Harping through my chest,
Like the spine of a quill vores
The palm of a hand when going
To touch it. A once enjoyed upon
House party turned sinister,
His head turning uncontrollably
To the second tier window, punched
Stature quenching to the glass,
As he tumbled observingly,
Asking for the sting of externality,
Imprisoned in the 'if only'
If only I could just kiss you. Our
Faces mending into an ulterior motive,
Of striving to be better, do better,
Feel better. Feel like we once did.
If only I could jump out of my own
Course of action, dye my brain,
Cut my worth, recycle it,
Recompose into a newer man.
If only I could start again, at trying
To please everybody, but instead
I displease myself more than anyone
I know.
If only I could just be. Exist.
Like shellfish do, like phytoplankton,
Like beams of light in darkish corridors,
Like prospering fruit flies in a canopy
Of spring breeze, like the fragrance
Section in a shopping center,
Like Get Well Soon cards, like
Microwavable dinners.
Like I should be.
He is a glimpse into reflexiveness,
The plasticity of passion, pleasure,
Consent, the mind can scar your
Perception, rape it, assault it. Cleanse it,
To others. Perception is a prisoner to
Free thought. Thoughts are fugitives
Of a free will.
YOU ARE READING
Shuttle Bus 17: A Poetry Collection
PoetryPoetry 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.
