Of Poetry and Sound: Raw Free Verse of an Overthinker
Small talkin’
People dropping their story in resumes
I don’t want to know your
Graduating rank
The prestige you think
comes dripping off words
Words I never asked for
Like a moving target for some
Narcissistic folk-lore
They’re just measurements on paper
Recycled on every ear […]
Sensible, Nonsensical
Logic Unreliable
Will not compute
Harder to refute
The many little things
A thousand cuts, compounded
The oh so big things
Deeper wounds, but slowly so
In a world of endless information, we are part of the ever-expanding internet era. The soft glow of our phone’s light may caress our face as head meets pillow, but inevitably it keeps us up later at night when we find falling asleep nearly impossible. The snake and the tail, oxymoron becometh, it succeeds in perpetuating a cycle of worsening sleep habits that lead us to pull out the phone in bed. I’m guilty of it, so so guilty of it.
Isolated, the barren tundra
In a room, in a crowd
Echoes of inclusion
Seen outside in, infinitum
Surrounded
Alone
Forever sentenced to self
Running on empty,
With nothing left to give.
Smiling,
Weights on each corner.
A fragmant of my former self,
A starved ghost. Barely me.
Turned to autopilot,
Coasting with fumes.
I’m older now, aged decades in years.
Not so naïve to the way we cover our sorrow with smiles.
Opinions tinkering in my mind
Bubbling up, to share to an empty audience
Kindled Shadow Poetry