i hate you
anonymous reader
i hate that i have to speak to you
with a voice
full of deliberation
with words
full of meaning
i hate that i have to put you first
in order to see myself
i hate that i have to be something
before you
in order to be myself
i hate that
you have to be there for me to make sense
of myself
you critic
a sleeze
you judge
and sit in your comfortable world
created out of judgements
that need to be made
as my insecurities create your comfort
you, too, must know that it will not last.
you that reads
and understands
and shoves meaning into my words
that attempt to define no truth
you anonymous reader
you are forever gone
watch yourself diminish
as my words expand
into a silence that you will never comprehend
as they contract
into an absence that you intend
to dismiss
it is not for you i write
if you come again
you will derive no strength
no self esteem
your ego is the gunk that rots at the bottom of a pile
of self made lies
your ego is yours
without beauty
you speak
without love
you think
and pollute this universe without care.
you are one daring creature
but you dare
to do all the things
that make you unreal
and i am your queen
but i am your loser
motherfuckingfailurefiascoshunnedmarredjustnotenoughbutalwaystheballinthemiddleoftheroomthatdoesntrollandhowcometheshadowisyourhippieandiamyourcarnivalbutlifeissomethingthatdoesntmoveevenwhenitgoesonandwhatdoesitmeanwhenyoumeanandyoumeanandyoufuckingmeanallthetimeandiwonderwhyidontsmileanymoreandwhetherthathasanythingtodowithyouandhowyoudontlivemylieyouwhoreoftheuniversethatrepellsthesmoothlimitlesscategoriesofsunshinethatdishevellmybrainmylordiamyourfuckinglordfuckingtryandseewhatyouseewhatdoyouseeyoucrazymotherfuckerthatpretendstobeblindonlytobesafehidingfromyourselfevenwhenyouarenotfearfulandalwayscrappinginmybackyardasifprivatepropertywereathingofthepastfuturefuckfacewhatthewalkwelliamnotyourlieamiyourtruthbutmaybesomedayweshallalllivetoseethestarssmileinthedarkwhennobodyisreallywatching
you know, you leave and you are left, always, always by your own leave.
ReplyDeleteanyway i found this poem by edna st vincent millay and it's lovely:
if I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again--
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man--who happened to be you--
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud--I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place--
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
you write with an anger i've rarely seen. i like the stream of consciousness at the end. feels angrier than the rest of the poem.
ReplyDeleteOh my god. Im going to stop reading and commenting now. I'm scared of you.
ReplyDeleteHaha! I love the fact that you not only put so much feeling in as a blogger but also put yourself in the shoes of the viewer.
Fantastic.
you at least have an identity
ReplyDeletethrough the pieces and puzzles
that you create and assemble yourself
you at least can express anger
at the world
and reason
why.
me. i stare at you.
the echo that you create in my head.
screams right back at me
strikes me.
and i lie here
stupid
unaware
if i love or hate
or feel anything
that lies in between.
and as i write
the echo's gotten weaker
and so has my soul
and i feel
like a clogged wound
as i scratch it
it hurts
and bleeds
but never opens
completely.