Who Am I Is a Contrived Title for a Poem

Greg Murphy

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.