To Hell With It All

Sometimes it's hard to feel 

like my existence is more

than just taking up space.

 

At some point being 

soft spoken and compliant 

backfires and comes back 

at me like a boomerang.

 

Everything in me 

wants to say 

"To hell with it all."

 

Because that's how I feel...

I feel like my life 

has become this hell. 

 

I'm a walking corpse. 

Bones and blood 

and jagged breath.

 

There's a pressure on my chest 

like I'm caving in, 

imploding from all 

these expectations 

I'm afraid I can't fulfill.

 

At the same time 

I feel like if 

I fell off the face 

of the earth, 

no one would bat an eyelash. 

 

I don't know which circumstance 

weighs heavier on me 

but combined, 

they make me lose 

the will to live. 

 

They bear down on me; 

stress compressing

like unwanted CPR 

that attempts to mold me 

into a box that 

I could never fit.

 

It drains the life 

out of me to the point 

that I'm a zombie after 5 PM,

completely useless 

for the rest of the day.

 

I can't help thinking 

that the only way 

to shut off these thoughts

is to end myself.

 

To hell with it all.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just ranting

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lyrycsyntyme's picture

If you can write out the struggle,

..which you have done incredibly well, as far as I can see, then you can - piece  by piece - get to solutions that feed the deepest, most meaningful desires of your soul. Traps are laid for all of us by the world we live in, and I'm not sure that any of us can possibly avoid them. But feeling their jaws and teeth means you are so very much alive, and the energy will be there to pry yourself free.

S74rW4rd's picture

You are more than just taking

You are more than just taking up space.  You are one of postpoems' great ones, and your poetry bears witness that encourages others.  The after five oclock drainage is, I suspect, a phenomenon of modern society; especially those of us who do not numb our brains after five with the inanity of the idiot box.  But you are far more than a mere taking up of space.  Elements that were fused together in the cores of stars constitute you physically.  Your poetry gives us the record of your soul's existence.  Much more than just taking up space . . .


Starward