The March Poem. Not feeling depressed, suicidal or anything like that. It’s just one of the thinking phases where I wonder, ruminate over the nonsensical and noise of life then just need to puke it all out of my system. In a few days Pollyanna will be rebooted, but for now…it’s just a dark pulchritude-inal moment-bdj
TO OFF END
You say that you love me
But what if that’s just a trap, ploy to
I’m tired of your junk, all junk
Hell yeah…MY JUNK!
Let it go?
Let it God?
God just let me Go!
All that you are is screaming
And I can’t run
Run fast enough to escape
Sometimes the life I want most away from
Out of sorts and discombobulated
Everything’s twisted and tiring
Sleep rarely comes because it’s a wimp
Rejuvenates babies and fools but takes me
To a new day of hell around every corner
Hate, judgmental roarings of the over-privileged
While real people-heroes scamper silently in the dark
As if the ass, clothes, loves, finances of the “all important”
Matter more than my heart and ethical beliefs
I just need the TV to turn it all…
When does it, when will it get here?
What if I hastened it just a bit?
With a nosh of sugar, unprotected sex, fat, speed,
Excessively lying political pulchritude, shame, stress, anger
How did I get here?
This is not my beautiful wife
This is not a life…