Snippets About Self

Futile

My eyes are heavy

Wishing stones fruitlessly cast

In a barren well

*****

Dizzy

The earth does not bear

My polar revolutions

A warped gyroscope

A dance of self-destruction

Eternally spiraling

*****

Poet

Gravity stifles

I’m a terminal impulse

Bound for Parnassus

*****

Autophobia

I never thought myself beautiful,

Only unwanted. You’ll abandon

Me eventually, it’s as inevitable as

Breathing. How could I condemn

You for the instinct to survive?

*****

Imperfect

I don’t commit great evils only

Small ones with great frequency

*****

Haunted

My soul is too small

I hear it shifting inside

Like phantasmal chains

*****

Monster

I am not free inside this heart

That smells of cinders, the

Soldering iron application of

False Gods to a naked witness

I wanted so much to believe

I wore the woolen cassock

Over my head like a widow’s

Veil, I tattooed scriptures

Into my bones so that my

Blood runneth over black and

Righteous. I tried to make

Myself beautiful through the

Application of paint rather

Than the acceptance of self

And in end I became a monster

Distracted

Voltaic birds falling mid-migration

Into the crevice of some unknown

Latitude where I cannot retrieve

Them even upon retracing their

Precise trajectory. My thoughts do

Not arrive on time, they succomb

Invariably to the weather

=

While Isadora was playing in the park I was just scribbling nonsense in my notebook. I am in that low self-esteem funk again

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