Who Am I Is a Contrived Title for a Poem
I am a piece to a puzzle that doesn’t exist
A house with one way mirrors for windows
Turbulent, passionate, worthless
Collapse me or I’ll collapse
Constrict till implosion
Who feels ardent about misery
Who allows love to permeate anyway
Who reflects anything and nothing?
Not me. I swear its not.
A beautiful, amazing, stunning, shitstain
We all have nothing to offer the world
Or does the world have nothing to offer us?
Is nothing what we are meant to offer?
But who does what they are supposed to?
Skip me. Skip me. Skip me. Skip me.
But wait. No one can soar under a radar
This shit I spew isn’t worthless but I am
And you’ll all figure out I’m not
Just when I get a chance to build
Or was that collapse?
We don’t want to be alive unless...
Life is a sweater vest
feel its warmth under the sun
You can’t take it off
Suffocate. Than was my plan for you anyway
You shit. You breathing psychopath
You whore. You breathing angel.
Don’t flinch. You’re worthless
the ants are coming
To pour gasoline on your garden
And you might be squished
Or was it squashed?
It was lost.
We are lost.
Here. Help me put my shoes on.
I don’t want your help
I’m still alive. Breathing.
Waiting to feel alive.
We make that feeling you fuck.
We have the choice.
I’ve chosen. To die.
But I’m going to stay alive.
Who would choose to die?
You shit. You fuck.
They all love you a lot more than you do.