Tuesday, July 29, 2008

What The Heck Was Bothering Me In September 2003?

I've been dipping into previous writings a lot recently, and I am doing so again.

I found this ?poem? I wrote FIVE years while cleaning my room last week. It was a little surprising to say the least. Me, clean my room?

No, I mean that I would write something THIS dark. Whatchagonnado, though?

Try not fling yourself off a bridge after you read this.



Weather Forecast

Rain.
Rain.
Rain hitting my door.
Thinking thoughts of no more.

Thoughts are invading
Palms start their bating
Mind is evading,
today.

Fist is still clenching.
Mind is still wrenching.
Body escaping,
away.

Closing my door,
Nobody cares.
Not anymore.
Fire away at my bland-crusted door.

I don’t want anymore.
Of the games.
Of the score.
My plans are escaping
Body, lifeless-traipsing
Click.
Erasing this pain.

Triggers are pulling
Mind, thoughts pooling
Craniums flying
Mind, slowly-dying
Why hold on to this pain?

Head, open canvas
Blood, stop this madness
Eternal, constant sadness
Blandness, all blandness
Finally all going away.

Pulling stops pulling
Pooling, the pooling
Drooling starts drooling
My crueling stops crueling
Today is finally the day.

And one less dark bastard
Needs no more master,
Thank you.
Sits still and plastered
Faster, please faster.

Mind still evading
Pain, knowledge fading
Drain, won’t stop draining
Carpet is staining
WHY AREN’T MY THOUGHTS FUCKING GOING AWAY?

Failing at death
And scraped from the floor,
Failing at death
Swung ‘way from death’s door.

Why are they crying
Yells, “Shots firing?”
Sirens start whining
Still I keep trying

To escape from this place
If not by will then by face
Hung from a wall
I will. I’ll show them all.

I will.

I will show them all.

Limp like a thought.
That has never been thought.
In peace, I am caught.

No more running from pain.

Tomorrow,

no rain.

4 comments:

prez said...

New words you created in this poem:

"bating" - verb - an action particular to palms (of the hand) begun once thoughts start invading

"bland-crusted" - adjective - possessing a thin layer of boogers, chest hair, back hair, and generally dirt, usually found on doors of homes that do not get cleaned on a regular basis

"crueling" - verb - the act of being cruel; stops , ironically, once the pool starts pooling and the drool starts drooling

ann marie said...

did you write this back when you were dating Pete Wentz?

Maccerz said...

I think you wrote this that one day you were constipated.

Lali said...

I think you wrote this right after a completely nude Psycho Timmy kicked us out of his house the night of my surprise birthday party - what a surprise indeed!