You wept: I have no nerve left, Well, you keep that to yourself, Like you're harbouring dead. A friend must bear until the end, I hate you, everything you have, And you can't just fuck me, But you'll stand beside me, That's why we're just friends.
Softly shifting silver sands, Solid to liquid, Liquid to gas. I just felt, if you never left, None of that comes to pass. Cocky glibness, middle class, Christmas to windows, Windows to glass. I just sat aside, never asking, What do you say to the fairer sex? You're everything I've ever dreamt? Well, I find there's just none left, Nothing but adventures, And acceptance tests. Coffee drinking, ginger snaps, Trauma to forgiveness, Forgiveness until collapse. You're everything I ever dreamt, I'd do anything to bring you back, Like an eye that stares ahead, Tears roll down my face again. I'll never be the things I lack, I'll never change, skin like that, Only grows with age. Salt to water, Water evaporates.
Full and clear: What should I have been? I hear the rage of a starter pistol. Good acting, Looksmaxxing, Should practice. Looking back I just didn't have it in me. Full and clear, What should I have done? I fear the stage of starting interest. Good learner, misunderstood, Bits of salmon under lemon curd, A bit too sweet to handle her. Full and clear, I could have been, And still could be, still could live, But I hear you far surpassed me, Too good for coming last place. Rather, you practice trot and gate, Failing that you simply walk away, Down the hill, then left on blake.
Fist, upon brickwork, in repetition, My impression is the stigma persists, It's an effect of my symptoms... In reminiscence, problems were clear, Upon a cliff, above the tar pits, I think of a picture with scribbles on it, It's funny, small things, in the end, Even left in place, I would jump to my death. Vodka Tonic, Kalamata olive, My impression is the addiction persists, It's effectively my existence.
I see yellow, blue in disbelief. Spiritual sterility, misdeeds, Financial instability, tricks, Affinity for weed. Advocate for your beliefs, Maybe, about that, you should sing, Not wordsmiths, suicidal tendencies, And bowing, Hands and head about the strings. Red is the color of blood, Red is the brickwork at home, Red is the byproduct of cones, Red is the color of love, Cleft lips, crushed bugs, Insides of lungs. Scry from that what you like, But Toronto has a darkness, That should be red and white.
Egg Yolk, turmeric, rare. Mostly about appearances, Vitamin b12 and Riboflavin. Such is the fellow person, Complex, whole in concept, Definitive, yet unborn. Kinfolk, rhetoric, fare, Mosly about appearance, Enlightenment, revenge. Mild, is the field's air, Be someone, she said, As she left, I yelled: "I'm certain".
They say, love is fair, But then, what for free? Birds and bees, they explain, Saying mostly ends, Giving little means. A friend, dear, a branch, tree. When they speak they talk of weight, Everything they feel. Then they say, live laissez-faire, Paint the walls of red and greens, They hope you speak their language. Incentives and dreams, hopes of things. But what divides boxes and squares, Fishes and streams, them and me? Is it a line or the right to be? Speak freely, breathe freely, Easy, people say it should be, From a mouth that releases, Full of pleased flesh and teeth. But if they had one wish left, It would be for me to never be. Well, that's sweet. But I know what that means, Go ahead, feel your feelings. Just know, there is no you and me.
'I just wish, with all the time I have left', As she squeezes her fists, laments, Her eyes see ideas she never said, Sadness bookends her existence. She knows what she is, and lies, She thinks she knows what's best, But she is losing her desire for life. I just wish, like all the cows she loves, She would fight and fawn over me for once. The person she sees staring into the sky, It seems she likes, but she rarely sees herself. Mostly other men, me, and occasionally, marquee lights. She thinks it's for the best, I'm sure. The person she reveals herself to be, As the ocean fares, she holds against, My love can only take so many hits, She says, as she sets the table, For two people, but never herself. She says in the end, it's for the best. What happened to the things she liked? She thinks to herself in a flight, Reminded of a dream, desires, Meets someone else and tries. Time is a god of fire, however, So it takes and destroys her, Inside first, then outside. What she does with her life, It's none of my concern, Fans in the crowd fight amongst themselves, Not with players they revere and beheld. I think I know what's best, but in the end, I knew very little of what I said, Even less of the outcomes she had. So, who am I, to wish?
Sitting outside the shop on a cloudy May afternoon, my hand scrawls on the back of a receipt a list of the aspects of myself: - the moles in morse code down the side of my face ($4.99) - the scars on my leg in bumpy braille ($12.76) - the skin covering my knuckles, shining where it has split so many times over ($29.97, sale price) - the soul filled with self-loathing, boiling, bubbling over the rim ($10.19) - my spine, doubled over and bent backward ($17.22, CLEARANCE) - the effort I put into eject all but the smallest parts of myself as a collection of trinkets, an amalgamation of dust bunnies ($0.99) I must have picked these up, absentmindedly, through my time in the shop. Where can I put these back? I didn't want them. Why did I pay for them, pulling out my wallet in a daze? I never knew they existed. I must have entered a girl and left a much older woman. How long was I standing underneath the humming lights? I crumple up the scratch paper and toss it in the bin as the sun waves from the overcast.
The wind whispers to my skin, It's like it speaks with every breath. As if it has been calling out for my presence, Waiting to see the face behind this mask. So far it has shown nothing but disdain, And I wonder if I have anything left to give. In darkness I wander, With nothing but my memories Falling, falling, falling. Where once I saw light now lies only gloom, And I know that it has gone. For those who wish for rest, I have none Though I'd give up what I have, for one more. But it's too much now, I can't move my hands, I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) In the dark, with nothing to grasp, The memories that I hold so dear Fall away from me like they were never there. And I feel as though I will fall into madness, Like the very world is crumbling beneath my feet, That everything is crashing down, I fear I cannot stand the weight. (I'm fading) I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) *** I'm afraid I've gone and made a fool out of myself again, I knew you wouldn't understand my reason, And now you're not talking to me at all, You see I didn't mean to let your memory fade, It's like I was being pulled away by another force, Something I didn't mean, something I can't control, I don't even know why I'm still here... I don't know why I'm still here. I should leave this place, I know it's wrong, I shouldn't be here in your mind, I can't help the way that I am, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I can't stop feeling so low, I'm afraid it's already too late. I didn't mean to let you slip away, But the thought of losing you just doesn't sit right, To keep you awake and alive, I need you here, I'm not alone, Without you here with me I can't go on, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. I didn't mean to let you slip away, I just can't shake this feeling, That something inside of me is broken, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. This poem is an Articial Intelligence re-interpretation of "Super Mundane" by TheSoftSophist
Paper, mind racing; April, outside rain; Days, time, pain. Trial, minor inheritance, Inside raging, vain, Water droplet pacing. Lies, decadence, Left in the sunset. Am I adept? Think, look back. Flies in everything, Trying anything, I, tried everything. Trial, cherry picking, Many years, Their meaning? A small committee, Press, briefings: Ideas discrete, Their leanings. Where is the time for healing?
Mollasses, grasses, So slowly time passes, Until masses stand up. Hunt and hunt and hunt, Fuck and fuck and fuck. Until nothing is left, Eating worms, grubs and bugs. Sovereign and one language, But towers are what we love, Mountains of Earth, plum Counter-part to flowers, Darkness, we become.
Bullet for bunting. What's in the word, That the mouth fit not say. I wield my ink, bleeding words like fire. Fighting to shave off the frailty you plunged on me. You used to be unique, very ineffable. Never knew I was being deluded by wishful thinking. I fought your fight, abate your fears. Rather than return a thousand thanks, you fired me with a cacophony of bullets. You inhaled the oxygen of my love, While I search in perusal for answers. Your words, monotonous, left me in a muddled state. Like a bullet for bunting, I never saw it coming. © Ifediata Kosisochukwu
If one could fly away, Where could you go, Besides the sky to stay? If one could bike, Cycle into the skyline, Left foot fine, Right foot aligned, Thoughts fill my mind, The blind can read it. When you were fine, and I took the time, When you were mine, I looked life away. When you're five, You say goodnight, and you hope the same, for your final days. When you lie awake, Were the choices you made right: My private plane, My rightful place? My silent rage. She says you're mine, To another guy, Would I mind? I mean, I made no complaint.
Once in a life event, Arrives by themself, A winding stare, Polite requests, tired guests, But the knife is there. Apples cut and left to rest, Places wood, transcend self, And hope the place is good.
I feel like an empty vessel cast away The only thing that hits my hull is the slap of a choppy wave I have no crew on board they all found the challenge to much The cargo I have is overflowing from deep within my hull The milk has soured & the whey of the milk is all I am able to smell I once was loved in such a way, the strength of it filled me up I know it is hard to see not that I am old & withered up The way she pulled me towards her, like there was always a rope connecting us The feeling this gave to me is far too much to describe I know that is is hard to see now that my ropes have frayed away The sails are saggy, no wind will fill them up My rudder seems to be broken, around in circles is the only way it goes I fill with dizziness, that is all too much & reminds me of the day the love went away I know I will never dare love again, this old hull can not handle it all again So I will keep going in circles seeing the same thing There is no joy, no crew to fix me up. The old milk, in the old vessel has been left on its own The stench will never leave.
Often at times, I find myself at war with my own mind, Unable to accept that that I'm unable to accept that I am but a speck of dust, Wandering aimlessly, Crashing into everything that I'd eventually grow to love, Then wandering off in search of someone who would eventually break my heart into a million tiny pieces until I'd convince myself to just give up, But our species, For better or for worse have an unwavering ability to persevere, So I tuck myself beneath this dirt seeking only solace from that which left me questioning everything, Until one day I push past the debris and rubble, a stock with a shadow, And with each and every passing day, I feel the life and love growing and shaping me into a stronger version of the person I abandoned in the grave I call these sheets just the day prior, For no pain will silence me, No discomfort will ever extinguish that which sets my heart on fire.
How much does she do with things of me and you Throughout the light of day Pining life away How much does she do for people in the room From cradle to the grave All rising and depraved How much does she do keeping busy till night falls Exchange excitement for a fall Off to slumber fore he calls How much does she do no time left for you Wanting only to be near And support when things go queer How much does she do unwilling ne’er to bend Or experience more than friends No intimacy on the mend How much does she do Till the end