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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: What You Already Knowdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: HisNameIsNoMore
    ASL Info:    28 - Male - Ohio
    Elite Ratio:    3.09 - 75/182/213
    Words: 256
    Class/Type: Poetry/Dark
    Total Views: 684
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1549



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsWhat You Already Knowdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Well here I sit, a cigarette in hand. A thought on the tip of my tongue, like this burning cherry I dim and fade yet seem so brilliant and filled with life.
    Scattered my remnants across the floor.
    Lower my expectations, the window freezes over.

    I cut the wheel and turn sharp, not caring or what I've been told, about this madness.
    No medication could misdirect the pain.
    Oh God.
    I'm so bored of life.

    Well I sat there and thought to myself, my fingers burn numb, yet the smoke turns blue.
    I could smell her, she reminded me of cod fish.
    What a whore, you could see her scars torn across them bones.
    Still so fresh I start to groan, I can hear this twisted piano and it's crooked melody.
    I imagine this is all in mind.

    Slam on the breaks and watch myself fall into oblivion.
    Laughing to myself, this madness just tickles me in the most wicked little ways.
    I chime back in as the light shifts, begin.

    I drive and I drive all through the night, and to those who have known this empty feeling unraveling inside.
    Sometimes you feel like your strings come undone.

    Shaking my head as I watch the world around decay.
    Just worthless people living worthless lives.
    Among them I am just like them and I've come to understand why.
    I am simply evil that's unjustified, so sometimes I stand in denial of all the little sins I've done.





    Submitted on 2010-02-01 21:15:10     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Some focus involved here. A spent feeling, mind reeling. Regrets unveiled in hyper-bent mode beyond where exhaustion should have sent to a needed rest. Again with the smoke that clouds, veils by choice in spite of the bitterness that goes with it. It it a tunnel or a funnel? Just some perceptions. Experience(s) is what life's all about. Such is never worthless.
    | Posted on 2010-03-14 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      In the start it was rough, I think you could go back and smooth it out a bit, some words were there they weren't needed others were missing. But as you went along, I can see yo got into the smooth flow of writing this out, maybe it was just that it was starting to fuse together in your head. Either way. I like the idea, we're all sinners, and we all deny it. I think you did a fairly well job of capturing that in this poem, good work and good luck with your next one!

    - Constance A. Hensley
    | Posted on 2010-02-02 00:00:00 | by Scaredheart | [ Reply to This ]


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