Writer’s Block
She was a beautiful girl -
She was a beautiful
She wa
She
… I’m not feeling it today.
I’m a lonely guy
Acknowledge me!
I’m a lonely guy
I’m a lon
… Too desperate.
…
Fill me with me joy
With happiness
You mean everything to meao
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!
…
I guess that’s enough writing for today.
-EPS
he misses himself more than he misses her.
his smiles are laced with sorrow,
and he takes his coffee black.
Loneliness sits at his table
every morning
for breakfast,
but she never
says
a word.
he surrounds himself with sunshine,
even though his soul's the moon.
Despair holds him close
through the night;
he finds himself pressed up
against her spine,
as though never wanting
her to leave.
and his pillow is soaked
with tears and smiles.
[Author's note: this poem was inspired by the character Adrian Monk from the USA mystery series, Monk.]
The monster vs The angels
She realized that her future was bright
But her heart fell in love and now she's high
The smoke is her friend and the drug her addiction
He touches her while she's thinking about leaving
She allows him to embrace her in the clouds of the monster
Her tears don't stop by the mistake she has committed
He hurts her in the end hating her weakness
Her body is in pain and now she's not breathing
The clouds of the monster surround her
Her death is near and now she's screaming
She realized her future was bright
But she decided for a monster and a demon on her side while there were other that would be the angels of her path.
Every Night, and Indefinitely
Dear Readers:
Watch now, as we listen closely to our reclusive subject reciting her poetry. She is siting two-fisted with her paper and pen, and a glass of wine. She considers her unraveling sanity night after night. As the moon rises, her intellect spins. She is either going mad or perhaps she is slightly touched. She is indeed overwhelmed by her senses fusing. Irregardless, she is different and obsessed with the human condition. She ruminates with manic creativity over the injustices of humanity, but hope lingers nonetheless. She is haunted, but feeds incessantly on such. Her empathy and pain duel, and the outcome is yet to be determined:
These walls have
Metaphorical stones
My personal Veil of Jericho
I am counting in sevens
A separation from
My innate discomforts and
Mainstream society
My synesthesia shouts in shades of grey
And these walls offer
An isolated haven
Found within and
Built for
My emotional protection
To discern my condition
Away from the noise
Confined to myself and
With all triggers removed
My intimate space is
Safe and solitary
Quietly entombing
In body and mind
And I pace within
This is my mausoleum
The flesh of my wit
Accompanied only
By a cacophony of
Voices weeping
[This is not altogether symbolic, but provides some truth to the subject's fear of pending insanity.]
For mercy
In poetic fragments
Inside my brain, and
The Goddess of Eris --
With Phobos and
Deimos, are ready
To protect me
Exposing the two-faced
To the light, but
In the sanctity of my darkness
Fighting demons
On my own behalf
Borne from a brokenness
My vulnerability shattered like glass
Coupled with
The massive weight of
My empathy pulsing
Disproportionate and consuming
My disfigured changeling
And torn between
The fibers of wool
Now swaddling me
With carnal suffocation
[With regard to matters of the heart, you see here: the subject's undoing is taking place in slow motion.]
To the lovers who scalped me,
And harvested my soul:
You left me for dead.
And I can rest
Within these walls
I am able to heal
[Contradictorily, the subject still ends with hope.]
concrete voyeurs
our conversation today
made my walls
regret having ears
powerless to intervene
but
forced to listen
today my walls hear doubt
as I recite
your explanations
through my tears
as though somehow
my repeating them
will make them true
today my walls hear vulnerability
ashamed/defeated sobs
once I heard the door shut
usually reserved
for eight walls in total
the four of my bedroom
and the four of my shower
right now my walls hear fear (because it does have a sound)
it’s my wheezing through
a tightened chest
and the sound of my inhaler
as though somehow
asthma is the reason
I can’t breathe