PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

These waterfalls of mistakes

Pour into lakes of regrets.

And I drown

Beneath the bubble sounds.

So far down until my ears pop.

And all the pressure mounts

Imploding me with should-haves,

Could-haves.

A psyche eroding.

Do we say what we mean?
And if so, does it label us base and obscene?
Do we hide
Behind planets of lies
And get lost
In the space in between?
That trail we've blended into so long
We forget who we are?

Who approaches me without a plan?

Who reproaches me without some ruse

To gain an upper hand?

Who gets close to me

In hopes to attract someone else?

Who is real?

Who can say all the things that they feel

Come from depths unconcealed?

Who can fuck with the truth

And emerge unscathed?

Who can set their soul ablaze?

Burn out their horrific ghosts

And face them outright?

And who is a fucking coward like me

And revels in it?

In darkest hours, showers himself

With assurance

That this world's a mistake

And he's a fucking rebel in it.

And so I'll take a deepest breath of rain

Let it collect

And bleed it out my eyes.

Overflowing respect for these feelings -

Let them all out

Into a cup.

Buy her a drink.

Mix it up.

And let your lust and fears mingle...

Yeah, this one is dedicated to

Fucking no one.

My little note -

All mine.

So shitty.

So divine.

So nitty gritty.

So fine.

These cheap little fucking lines.

My substitute for a real filler...

P.S:
On a different note,
Has your chest ever caved?
And lost weight like those dangling middle lines
In an epic poem?
Somewhere you started strong
With those potent metaphors growing.
But by page ten
You had talked yourself to death.
Which is funny, 'cause if you're still reading
My theory's disproved.
I am... I am...
Some rambling fool...