PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I hate to envy your fate 

That you can pick up so well

I know that my i.d. is a sore subject 

Even for some of the more perceptive individuals 

In psychological thought

That's what I read once in Vogue 

At this library made of retired vanity

And recycled paper

So scary?

But take a look at all those reconstruction experts

Putting their traffic delay signs up

And bringing their heavy diesel equipment in

See what I think is that I'm projecting out 

My violent pleasure principle fantasies

Because once I ate some half cooked grape leaves 

Dipped in imported German beer

They weren't everything I thought they would be

Sore grapes pour such sour teas     

And I started dreaming about why 

Wanted so much to be like myself

So this is therapy?

Relieving 

I'm so fucking happi

Slap me

I think I'd love you for it 

Doesn't violence stimulate sexual passion? 

Being loving and kind is a character flaw 

A weakness 

And the distress to impress can literally kill us

But my style is finally sensible enough 

To reject my desire to be alone 

And to shun that weird kid in my art class 

Who I hated because he reminded I of me too much

Now I'm finally starting to realize 

Why I'm so fucking depressed all the time 

Crying

Afraid to say things the way that they are written

Words so poetic it's blinding justice

Grumbling at any sound against my 2.3 square inch ego mass

Hiding in the moldy corners of 

A hide away room with his TV daytime parents

Who spent more summers nurturing my prenatal senses

And taught me a little French

So is that why my defense mechanisms 

Are always seeking to destroy things?

Or maybe I'm repressing the memories 

Of always being the kid left out in my 3rd grade gym class?

The kid who was fart boy 

And hair bear or was made to return his homemade Valentines

Or got laughed at by the kids for wearing Kmart bobos 

That his parents thought were hip

That walked around with his head down 

To see the cracks in the coarse ground

While the tough kids rolled him around 

To see if any tears would flow

Or maybe people called him crazy when 

He would wash his hands until they bled

This has got to really mean something

I couldn't forgive myself for thinking this way though 

But keep digging it's there I know it

It's all in my past somewhere

How can I rationalize this to my selves?

It's all right because when you're always right 

It corrects me

So let my sleep pictures talk freely

It makes having to think outside of 

My self-induced delirium much easier

Except for urinating

And sure I've got issues 

I'm super roller polar and scf-fi-bi-schizophrenic

And all 7 of my personalities take heavy cream 

And fake sugar in their coffee

They like the fact that they 

Can prepackage almost anything now

And one of them secretly desires to marry our 3rd cousin

Who reminds me of my mother 

Or a sister 

I never wish I had 

When she was hating her father years ago while 

He was displacing the family cat

Who learned that by thinking too much about 

Why boys are boys and girls are girls 

And why squirrels like to eat acorns and not nuts

Who was hurt when his mother  

Loved his brother more once when he impressed her

And caved into the irrational desire 

To wash his left foot too much

But I am free to associate with whom ever I want, right?

I love myself more than I'll learn to see

You're more of a man than I'll ever be