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
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
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:
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
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
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.
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
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.