grab some tea baby, it's midnight. this is today's slam thread.
write something cool this week?
want to freestyle into the comments and see what you make?
this is your place to share something you wrote that youre proud of.
doesnt have to be a specific style or length, its just gotta be yours.
It's dark outside
with a spray of stars.
I'm sleeping on the porch again
the ocean sound rumbling tumbling
under the swish of the cars
following the road past my house.
I want Prufrock to sing
I want a jellical feline
I want a stop watched rodent
falling down the hole in my thoughts.
and perhaps, just
I hate the Midwest.
There's something in the air here;
pollen - pollution maybe.
Every breath I take feels heavier here.
Ten thousand hours of sleep
would make me more tired
than three, here.
Wide awake, an insomniac,
4:20 on a Tuesday morning;
stayed up the entire night before.
Think about the news;
depressing as always;
sensationalized headlines trying to make
what sounded so inspirational yesterday
into a threat today.
Think about heroes;
die inside. Wish that I had
the life that they have. It's
not healthy, nor sane;
and I think it's better off this way.
Ponder relationships soon to end;
they always do, and it's never on you;
but it's harsh and it's cold and it's never
with intention; accidentally forgotten
in a wave of loose ends.
It's okay, you think;
bitter from lack of sleep;
hit them up, they'll only feel as
uncomfortable as you imagine they will.
And boy, do you imagine they will. Squirming,
steps back; the entire charade; people
you shared suicide pacts with so long ago;
no longer giving you a moment's thought unless
you yourself provoke them. It's okay, though, you think
it's the way, it's the way it's all supposed to be; fetishize
in your mind being left behind. You are the only constant in
your life. Sit and think now; it's the only truth you have.
This isn't life;
this is sleep.
It's amazing how the mind tends to wander;
when you just give it an outlet to. From a short,
small section on air quality; to stream-of-conscious
from the worst parts of your mind; straight to
a small page on the net, forever to sit.
You'll more than likely delete it later; far too
embarrassing - rambling - to let be permanent.
Carried away, tired but restless; your default state.
Anything but healthy, but health is for the weak.
Hate your prose, you do and you know someone else
will. It's okay, though; it's not entirely your fault. Change it
Sigh and go to sleep.
(I need to just block myself from the internet at night.)
I love this moment captured. The thick doughy feelings that sluggishly respond, barely resilient and too late to fly, but you can't wade out of it or escape. I hate that feeling; having it so brilliantly captured resonates too strongly and I ache for the release.
But when it breaks
Please let it
and burn it all