To Off End


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


You say that you love me
But what if that’s just a trap, ploy to
Man-It-p-You-Late me!
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
At me
And I can’t run
Run fast enough to escape
Sometimes the life I want most away from
Is yours!

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…

©BBerry 03/01/2015

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