Coca-peptobismol

How many times do we have to go through this?

Peter said only positive thoughts

Manufacture smiles

Because they say turning hideous is the downside

Of a smile that’s upside down

The light, face it as best as you can

Forget the pain the rays bring on your eyes

You’ve had a lot of practice anyway,

Encountering eye strain via monitor screens

Go look in the mirror

Try not to pinpoint how many ways

Pinocchio should make you a witness

At ‘Him versus the fairy’

Drop the truth bomb on that goody-goody

Preach how lies are just truths with extra faith and theatrics

Teardrops.

Labouring breaths. 

Eyebrows knitted

Just relax, wipe off, breathe deep, unclench

Pop your next form of distraction 

Thanks internet

Just get back, retract on what society deems acceptable

Lie back and make an honest to God lie

About how you are

marketable

sellable

Happy outside

The Disrespectful Mate

How dare you disrespect

By mocking how I respond

To the circumstances I’ve gone through

I understand that my pain is no greater than yours

I am aware of the greater pain other people perish

But can you for once

Try to be serious for once

 

I know that I shouldn’t dwell

That I should learn to be a little lighter

A little more human

A little more in tune with the world

But I can’t

I’m not sure if it’s just not my brand

Or I’m really not the right fit

To your mean club

 

I’m more of a Lorde than all of you Taylors

So sorry if I’m a dark, heavy burden

To your bubble gum pop

I wish I can stop

But the day I stop

Is when I leave this party flop

 

So sorry if my dark black clouds

Is too much for your aggressive, loud

Overwhelming, positive, happy persona

I’ll try harder in pretending

To push for more vibrance

And ultra neon

 

But in return

You don’t get to say shit

That I don’t have any right

Because you have pain too

And that the world has a lot more people

With pain bigger than I have

Show

I’ve written more than a thousand words just to say what I need to tell you 

But those words became meaningless, losing all its honesty. 

Another page has been torn for creating this nothingness,

Another erasure to object to this madness. 

Madness, to which I owe these next lines

And yet I’m still grasping for my next rhyme. 

This poem is directed to be indirect

Buying time so I can further reflect 

But what is it that I really wanted to say?

I know you’ve been dying to know, so why keep you at bay? 

Maybe it’s because I never intended to let you know,

That all these lines are just for show 

So laugh because it’s stupid, it’s joke

if you’ve set your expectations to low 

Because life is as funny as this poem for show

It makes you want to find its meaning,

But has no real goal.

06/09/17

I’ve been wanting

To start things

Work at it, Finish them

But there’s a weight

In my chest

That I can’t just

Ignore.

 

Sometimes it’s non-existent

But at times it suddenly starts

Pressing down hard

Deep in the recesses

Of my tired soul

 

Sorry my bestfriend

I know you’ve been asking

Wondering

If I am happy

But all I can muster is a

“fine”

I can’t elaborate

Even if you keep hounding

For a plausible explanation

Thank you for your dedication

But I really don’t know

Why I feel what I feel

And why I can’t change

my insight

I guess it’s that term

Blindside

When there’s the light

But all you see are the shadows

 

I will get through somehow

But not right now

Because for now

Let me process the pain for awhile

Make it seep through

My cold, dead insides

One thing I ask of you my friend

Is to just stop, please stop

Adding to the pain by judging

Naming, classifying

what I say or do

As being too emotional

It’s not an act

Because honey I’m telling you,

What I would give

To stop feeling anything

Right now

Block

It’s as if my pen was shy

To imprint my command

Onto his dear white friend

 

Swimming in a sea

Of letters, words, and phrases

But coming up with useless

Erasures that eliminate perfection

 

I try to schedule divine intervention

Which transforms itself slowly

To the “should have done”

 

I’m stuck, asking God to give me a clue,

What to do with my problem or just end it soon

Because blocks are the meanest bitch

You can lock yourself with,

When you’re an artist.

 


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