Sink down to your knees
slowly, hear the crick of your
kneecaps, tired but
young, as it hits the polished wood floor.
Lean your head back,
back,
back,
and now you're eye to eye with the heavens,
eyes wild, arms flying behind you
to keep you from falling stupidly deep into hell.
Do not fear, only the maddest
fall.
And you're no madman.
Not yet.
Peculiar, the way fear works.
Horrible, the way fear works.
Beautiful, the way fear works.
Tragic, the way love works.
The misinformation effect is at its height. Inattentional Blindness. A prime example. You were right. I was wrong. Yes yes yes, I will live through the shells and smiles and shivers I created last minute and filled with my flesh. Yes yes yes, I will live with the words that I scratch out last minute before anyone walks by and has a chance to read the sweet sorrow I've passed onto paper. Oh yes, oh yes, I will live with the fake sense of fear, God knows where it came from, that I've injected giddily into every nerve of my body.
Unclear, vague, poorly written, and therefore, unrelatable.
Tragic, the way love works.
I know no soul will read this.
Perhaps that is why the words
spill
and stick to my fingers,
a thick paste that doesn't deteriorate.
Stupid stupid stupid.
Shall we continue?
I miss her.
I don't know where
why
when
which
what
who
she is.
Take me out of my head
ill give you the tools
and a toolbelt
secure it
fasten
tighten
don't let it fall
god knows i cant wear it.
notice the lack of punctuation
this is the stage
of
realization.
- homage to need
YOU ARE READING
Poems from a Muddled Soul
PoetryI love poetry, and that's an understatement. So here are a few poems I've written about everything and anything. Let's hope I don't do literature any injustice : ) - Pooja
