Bitterness and a bad habit
Some new poems that I wrote last week, they work as an outlet for some feelings I’ve been having recently.
Struggle through the teeth of incompetence
I try to make it through
The fence of deadly barbed wire
But, as always, I get stuck
I thrash about
It’s all I know how to do
But no good that does
More pain for me
More pain for you
More pain for those I love and that love me
You think by cursing my name
And staring out the other window
The one with the better view
That I’ll get free
Without damage
And won’t go back again
But this just makes me thrash more
If you want to help
You should untangle me
From the deadly mental barbs
Hold the anxious teeth apart
So I can climb through
And support me while I limp away
And try to find the way away from the mistakes
That have gone no far too many days
I don’t know if I really like this poem or not, but I do like the image of struggling through something like a fence, but only making it worse for oneself. Some personal drama stuff here, stuff I wouldn’t like to explain for various reasons – this is just an outlet for these feelings of anger and betrayal. I might even be petty in these feelings, whatever, I don’t care very much at this point. The inspiration for this song comes from “The Other Window” by the post-punk group, Wire, which consists of such lyrics as “When he looked through the window, for the thousandth time, he saw a black horse fighting for its life, fatally tangled, the more it struggled, the more it was strangled, time sped up, he turned away, there was nothing he could do, the other window, had a nicer view”. I feel the general feeling of that song works well for what I’ve been experiencing, even if it’s somewhat melodramatic.
A look beneath
It scares you, doesn’t it?
What’s hiding underneath
Underneath my seemingly harmless face
Why don’t you rip it off?
And reveal me for who I really am?
I’ll snap at you
Toss my acidic breath
Right in your worthless, rotten face
My composure
You tossed it off
And what for?
It made you feel better, doesn’t it?
To exposure my withered face
I hope you burn
And know you look like me
Except like the very definition of decay
At least I try to change it
Whereas you
Yes you, old friend
Don’t even know
Nor care
I’ll see you when the time comes
And you sure know where
Betrayal is the name. Again, not sure what to think of this one either – I feel it has a bit of a better flow, but it still feels kind of choppy, and also like I ran out of descriptive words to use. I think I could use a thesaurus when writing poems, really, although that somewhat ruins the spontaneity that dictates my writing style (though I’m not sure if that’s a good thing).
Torturous habit
Head hits the desk
Head slams on down
Jars me awake
Feel like a clown
Habitual torture
Habitual madness
Can’t make it stop
Can’t make it out
Too much fun
To stay up so late
But if I’m falling apart
Will I ever get a date?
This one’s about my bad sleeping habit, and how it’s kind of not easy to quit. I like the flow of this one better than the others, and the face that it’s not so bitter either.
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