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true life -
i am life's bedwarmer.
i am nothing more than its bitch,
its virgin whore.
everything is slipping away from me and i feel powerless against it,
life's grip is snatching all i have dear
and daring me to try and stop it.
life's got me in one compromising position
after another,
(as of now it's got me pinned to the wall)
it looks me dead in the eyes,
challenging me to make any sudden move.
it asks me how i like it.
it shows me no mercy, gives it to me rough
and i'd better take it.
daily, it strips me of everything
(my pride, my esteem, my sanity)
to the bone.
but life don't like bony girls, so it'll build me back up to where i'm just right again,
just ripe again.
i suppose i shouldn't complain -
complaining is useless,
i'll enjoy it someday, perhaps when i'm older,
and sleep won't save me anyway.
life will still be waiting for me soon enough,
ready to fuck me again.
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
