word vomit; letter to myself
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Description:
I'm not looking to refine this, it's just literally word vomit (as the title suggests), and I needed somewhere to dump this
This is not poetry, prose, or anything meaningful, it's just thoughts that make it to the keyboard before they really go through my brain more than once, and that's the stupidest kind of thought.
Anyway, there might be some sensitive topic stuff below, so please be warned.
And I know on my page I said I've given up on creative writing. That's true. But I can hardly call this creative or writing, let alone creative writing. It's just. Words.
if you want to bash it and pick it apart, go for it, but please don't expect me to refine this in any way, that's not the purpose of this thing. I'd keep it as a journal entry, but it would take up too much space, and bother me.
Hope you are all well <3
This is not poetry, prose, or anything meaningful, it's just thoughts that make it to the keyboard before they really go through my brain more than once, and that's the stupidest kind of thought.
Anyway, there might be some sensitive topic stuff below, so please be warned.
And I know on my page I said I've given up on creative writing. That's true. But I can hardly call this creative or writing, let alone creative writing. It's just. Words.
if you want to bash it and pick it apart, go for it, but please don't expect me to refine this in any way, that's not the purpose of this thing. I'd keep it as a journal entry, but it would take up too much space, and bother me.
Hope you are all well <3
word vomit; letter to myself
You reek of it. Your friends can smell it in the air around you They scrunch up their faces And look down on you, thinking "Wash yourself!" And soon you stink so much they can't stand to be near you. You wear it like a neon sign Strangers down the street turn and crane their necks, staring at the flickering lights. Their eyes scrutinise the coloured tubing: tiredunmotivatedworthlessstupid Everyone else just knows what's wrong with you. And you wring your hands, keep your head down Warm from the shame that emanates from the neons Hanging above your head. Your clothes pile up Because no amount of washing can rid the stench that now invades your life. Your nostrils flare in defeat. You're mad and you don't know why. You're mad because you're sad and you don't know why. It's a supercalifragilistic explosion and you're just as atrocious. (One book is out of place on your bookshelf and you're a raging mess. No one touches your stuff.) Your head aches with the thought of disorder to your order caused by the disorder which odours your life. You want to peel back your skin and rip off your face and for such a pacifist you don't know how to deal. That stench is the sadness that won't go away And those neons are the signs that show anyway You're not looking for attention, but you're still stared at, absolutely sure everyone else can see right through you. It's like you're there, even though you're not And when you are there, you wish you weren't. It's as jumbled as this mess of words this illogical sequence there is no flow, you roll with what goes you roll out of bed and lay on the floor because there's no point in walking through the front door people will stare people can smell it they're not professionals, but they'll diagnose it They'll prescribe you with "harden the eff up, princess" and a good cup of concrete, they'll shower you in pamphlets of poverty because they are too perfect and have never felt bad never felt bad, sad, or mad you're not allowed to feel bad you're not allowed to cry everything in your life is perfect you should always be happy why are you crying why are you crying why are you crying stop crying |
Submitted on 2013-08-24 07:46:27 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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| I used to do this a lot when I was in high school. Just write and be angry and frustrated and write so fast it's barely legible. And then look at it a couple months later, never thinking about it, and some epic idea would dawn on me. these writes are really useful and often surprisingly good in their own way. I absolutely loved the word play with disorder/order/odor, the in-rhyming was awesome. I can't imagine why you would want to stop writing all together. The previous comments are true. I would only add that THIS kind of raw word vomit is exactly what writing is for. Getting emotion out. understanding life, exploring ideas. And crappily enough the best works come from the worst times. Anyways, you are a fantastic writer. Follow your instincts, they are good ones. | Posted on 2013-10-18 00:00:00 | by Zai | [ Reply to This ] | Besides...doesn't it feel good to get it out! lol | | Posted on 2013-09-01 00:00:00 | by KimmyMim | [ Reply to This ] | Completely agree with MyPeriodical. This is the beginning of something...deep, random thoughts on paper are what lead to exquisite, perfected writes. I do this myself, sometimes. Then, once I'm done writing my "vomit" or expelling a jettison...I refine it, bring it down, demolish and reconstruct it into something more precise...to explain better what I was trying to explain. Bravo and Kudos to you...keep writing, editing and vomiting!!! :D | ~Kim~ | Posted on 2013-09-01 00:00:00 | by KimmyMim | [ Reply to This ] | I...don't understand something. Why did you give up? You've described something I, or many others could never describe. You pick words so precisely yet so effortlessly, so on point. I adore, love, favor this writing, because it has so much potential. | I've always loved your writing, but this topped the charts. Sure, it's weird and messy, but that in the description is beyond excuse enough. Thank you for sharing, really, I needed it. | Posted on 2013-08-24 00:00:00 | by MyPeriodical | [ Reply to This ] | |
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