WHAT HAPPENS . . . .

Senseless

thesleepingtypewriter — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 21:39:05 +0000

Revenge, revenge, thy blood is sweet, forever flowing without cease,
A river growing, growing roughly in the meadow without peace
A river growing has no peace, a river flowing does not cease,
No matter how the tide may turn forever flowing, slowly growing
Never ceasing useless chatter, knowing nothing else will matter
Nothing else will mean at all when blood is flowing, flowing faster.
Always growing, never knowing, ceaseless chatter without matter
Arriving safely, broken, battered, forever nothing, useless chatter.

Mental Breakdown

thesleepingtypewriter — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 20:17:58 +0000

Mental breakdown.

What does that feel like?

Does it feel like this?

My need to be a robot?

Unemotional. Stoic.

Still and calm, calm

A ticking bomb,

Slowly, slowly running,

Running out of time.

Is this what it is?

My own, own personal

Very personal hell,

My mental bomb,

A ticking, cracking shell

A torrent of unease,

My mental, stoic,

Stoic, still and calm, my

Mental, ticking, cracking

Breaking shell, uneasy

Mine, all mine, my

Own, my mental

Mental breakdown.

Silent Sketches

thesleepingtypewriter — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 19:50:42 +0000

I suppose I feel I’ve offended you

When you don’t write me back,

Even if I haven’t: my slight imagined,

Silence is the one thing that scares me.

Don’t you see why? Not at all?

It’s just that too many things are left

Unsaid in my house, I tend to get lost

In the undercurrents, drowned and

Floundering in all my ignorance.

The Pile

thesleepingtypewriter — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 16:34:28 +0000

We are eternally lost in this endless universe,
Surrounded, colors crying, climbing higher,
Our wings flapping in useless tatters.
This, the pile of white-hot agony
Of coming to the realization
That in our existence we
Have always been the
Bottom of the pile,
Forever buried,
Forever lost,
Underneath
Ever more
Layers of
Debris.

Originally posted under my main poetry site: http://thesleepingtypewriter.wordpress.com/

Enough

thesleepingtypewriter — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 23:31:02 +0000

I am sick and tired of this. Constant headaches, constantly being tired, constantly hurting in places I shouldn’t.

I ask myself over and over again what the point of it is. What happens when I’ve had enough? When I’m through, done with all of this? Will I disappear? Will they decide I’ve lived long enough, suffered enough, and let me go?

What happens when I’ve had enough, and the road is just too long? Do I give up – or wait?

I don’t know. But for the moment, I’ve honestly had enough.