Know Thy Worse Self

We’ve all heard it. We’ve watered it. And it’s grown, and it’s growing faster than innovation. It is the voice of destruction. The one who wants to kill you. The one who will stifle you, and choke you to death without justice.

I’ve listened to it whine, all my life. It’s told me how senseless I am. That I’m too dumb to ever be taken seriously. I am too weird to ever have a meaningful connection. I am too abnormal, no body could care less if I spoke or not. It said, I might as well blend in with the bland wall and disappear. Worse still, no one would notice if I’m gone.

For a long time I committed to it, it’s presence was seethingly stark in my earlier works.

Most days, I tried to reason with it, I accepted it, then I pleaded with it. Then, I  just disappeared like it told me to.

For a very very very long time, loneliness was in the air I breath, it was all I wrote about.

 

It wasn’t up to me, it wasn’t in my power. I began to realise how innovative I could be, then how fierce I am.

It’s okay if no one understands what my poetry is about. It’s gibberish, but even gibberish has added meaning to the heart. It’s fine that I’m not a jaunty influencer that everyone can connect with.

I’m weird, I know and nothing can take that away.

Nothing, not even you, the darkest side of my psyche can conquer me. I fight everyday to know my worse self, for only then can I truly destroy the bitch.

Once I had my wings broken, now I’m clawing my way out of darkness.

Letting myself know that I’m stronger for being weak.


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Reverie of an Insomniac

A shot of moonshine

Every night before bed

With Mr. Eddy or Tigger

My head rests on lilac feathers

A plethora of stars revolve my crown

picture perfect is mundane, so I’ve been told.

 

 

 

Too frequently  my eyes droop

So I pry them open

The night  raves by

A shot of vodka or honey

…..or whatever

I imagine counting sheeps

’till my breath steadies

yet time deepens further

 

 

The wishy-washy wondering mind takes center stage

The physicists of the relative law knew it better

The only thing standing between human

And reprogrammable telomers

Flying automobiles of the future

An overpopulated earth ‘coz liberals outlawed abortion

Remains the vitality of time

A tide that never ends

 

 

Again I’m up

A goblet of bourbon or diazepam

Whichever numbs  quicker

For  a nanosecond or a day

Letting darkness have its way

Delivering me to the gate of an unrealistic muse

 

Six more hours of paralysis

Just another flinching terror

disguised as pure bliss

In all this chaos I forgot to add

counting time works better than sheeps