A sweet treasure

Of silence

no thoughts

pilling up against each other

disappearing as they chase

across the blackboard

of my mind

A nirvana of nothingness

desired above all else

as I try to settle into calm

To take a deep breath

and know what it is

to just be

Demands from others

leave not a second

of time to call my own

so, when boredom should

strike

it gives a moment to call

my own.

The characters of a dozen

stories jump right in

clamoring to tell me

where they want to go,

what life is

who they love,

and peace is gone

before I can grasp it

vanquished with my next

breath

And in my mind, I pull out

the blackboard eraser,

slapping it on each thought

clearing until only deep nothing

remains

peace so I can sleep

The first writes... Those fluttery, sweaty embarrassments...

Are better remembered by the immortalized emotions attached;

to the winces of self critique

fettered by burdensome aspirations

and the whimsy of ardent fantasies;

One day perhaps to acquire depth commensurate

For the authentic romanticizing of alcohol

or other fast reliefs of intellectual pursuit...?

Not yet.

More for the equine galloping of daydreams,

mounting themselves to memories

In an attempt to conjugate within;

To kill the ancient child; to murder the self as fertilizer

for the garden of mind worms to feast on;

...those disgustingly beautiful fiends

who dutifully wind the pathways

To make life of the dirt:

to stifle earth's tedium

With the abject chaos of creation.

The first writes... Those fluttery, sweaty embarrassments...

Are better remembered by the immortalized emotions

Attached to the expectations or reflections of them

Rather than their awkward actuality.

Gee, I can't think of a time when I was bored.

I've never had to look for things to occupy my mind.

I long for quiet

and uncluttered time

stretching to infinity.

Nothingness

is the same

as overflowing.

Maybe start writing poetry off the tip of my mind

Or reminisce about the past I have left behind

Maybe make bookmarks out of newspapers cutouts

Or have an argument with a friend to clear doubts

Maybe listen to acoustic guitar versions of popular songs

Or finally return something I stole to whom it belongs

Maybe draw sketches of anime or manga characters

Or make a mental list of my favorite Hollywood actors

But I Could Always

Just Write A Haiku About

Literally Nothing

-Indulge in some madness

-Piece together how to get away with murder

-Try to do a flip and ultimately fail

-Repeatedly throw my pillow into the wall and have a wrestling match with my teddy bear

-Talk to myself because why go mad alone when I've got me and I, too?

-Screech like a banshee

-Write about how much I want to screech like a banshee but won't because societal convention dictates that's "weird"

-Imagine the clothes I would wear to my funeral, to my suicide, if the love of my life married someone else, if I were to meet Death for the first and last time, to burn some shit

-Go on a me date because what's better than an enemies-to-lovers arc with your greatest rival

-Write about boredom till my ears bleed

-Bite my arm (affectionately)

-Bite a book (for fun)

Chew paper (educational purposes, it's been many years and I've forgotten the taste of literature, smells like a good idea though doesn't it?)

-Reenact my death, blood gushing everywhere and make up the most silly last words I'll probably never get to say

-Wonder what my life would be if I could be and do anything, then run towards that life like a mad person

Anything. The world is your oyster. Go eat at a restaurant or drink some water or eat mud or lick a tree. Maybe I'm a little mad right now. I guess I'm kind of bored, too :) be a dinosaur for a while rawrrr raaaaaaa

bore·dom

/ˈbôrdəm/

noun

the state of feeling bored.

"the boredom of afternoon duty

could be relieved by

friendly conversation"

i

am never bored.

there is always

something to do,

someone to talk to,

even if that someone

is myself.

yes,

i am a very busy man,

my days filled to the brim

with obligations,

like a bird bath

after a spring storm.

no,

never shall i fall

victim to that curse.

boredom never haunts

the house i call my skull.

no,

i have never sat

on my couch

and fallen asleep

to avoid confronting

my own thoughts,

have

never ever made

a wrong turn

down dark roads

in order to inject

excitement into

my apathetic existence.

i

have ascended beyond

such petty concerns,

i no longer dwell

on past conversations

that sting my tongue

at two in the morning.

i

do not toss and turn

at all hours of the night

trying to find

meaning in the twisting

of my sheets.

no.

i am never bored.

and i definitely never

utilize my boredom

as a weapon

to stave off that

horrific ghost

of progress.

The void feeling that makes a person eager and thirsty for some excitement. A young writer like myself would take my laptop and dash away at the keyboard, loosing myself slowly and immersing my entire subconscious into the dim screen. Moments after and the feeling disappears like it was never there. Submerging into my fiction world was all it took and what it always takes.