deepundergroundpoetry.com
Confessions of an Opened Book
Approached, by unbeknownst & hesitation
Pulled from my shelf, dusted off, and made available
Laid...On a table, and curiously opened up
In essence, dead...Until someone looks
Brings me back to life
Reads me like a book...About minds
Delves deep into mine
And find, that they'll lose themselves
Peruse in stealth
Secretly feel, what I've already felt...What I lay on the line
Within the confines, of my yellowed pages
Please, by all means, be my guests
Be over zealous...While you analyze my contagion
Investigate the contamination and pestilence that I'm plagued with
Then know that I'm ill
Sick, infected with real...Lamentations
And I quote, from chapter 1, verse 2
"She weepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks: among all her lovers she hath none to comfort her: all her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they are become her enemies."
Though, I'm your friend
...I AM...
Relinquishing what I give
Selfishly I suppose...So, I can get twice as much as this
What I denote in connotations
Some know...Some can relate to
But within my labels, I have to belabor the point
It's like what I write, I think is right, when it's written
Turns rote...Keeps on repeating
The ink believes in all lies
It's up to all the bees in the hive, to fertilize & pollinate the truth
Until they do...It'll always just be about the honey
About what's funny being taken way to Sirius
Like the brightest star in the night sky disappearing
With no light left revealing
The chilling dog in me, that keeps on dogging me
Witnessed for all to see
Hopefully comprehended, or at least, subconsciously remembered
As if I purposely intended, to be hopelessly misunderstood
EPILOGUE:
My final chapter, that does not exist
Allows my ink to be permanent
Things I've deemed pertinent
That I let permeate, through lens & cones
That sit, in the unfortunate orbitals, of those I infect
Those I molest with my script
What I take from them, is guilt
What I leave behind, is innocent
Excrement smeared into eyes to remind
Like I'm that shit...Or, I ain't shit
Either way, I'm evacuated
Now I belong to you
Feel free to rummage through my basement
If you can make it past my dangerous vestibule
Take shelter with my words, under the roof, of my discourse
Become a part of the story
And live...Forever...Written down
~disDain~
Pulled from my shelf, dusted off, and made available
Laid...On a table, and curiously opened up
In essence, dead...Until someone looks
Brings me back to life
Reads me like a book...About minds
Delves deep into mine
And find, that they'll lose themselves
Peruse in stealth
Secretly feel, what I've already felt...What I lay on the line
Within the confines, of my yellowed pages
Please, by all means, be my guests
Be over zealous...While you analyze my contagion
Investigate the contamination and pestilence that I'm plagued with
Then know that I'm ill
Sick, infected with real...Lamentations
And I quote, from chapter 1, verse 2
"She weepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks: among all her lovers she hath none to comfort her: all her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they are become her enemies."
Though, I'm your friend
...I AM...
Relinquishing what I give
Selfishly I suppose...So, I can get twice as much as this
What I denote in connotations
Some know...Some can relate to
But within my labels, I have to belabor the point
It's like what I write, I think is right, when it's written
Turns rote...Keeps on repeating
The ink believes in all lies
It's up to all the bees in the hive, to fertilize & pollinate the truth
Until they do...It'll always just be about the honey
About what's funny being taken way to Sirius
Like the brightest star in the night sky disappearing
With no light left revealing
The chilling dog in me, that keeps on dogging me
Witnessed for all to see
Hopefully comprehended, or at least, subconsciously remembered
As if I purposely intended, to be hopelessly misunderstood
EPILOGUE:
My final chapter, that does not exist
Allows my ink to be permanent
Things I've deemed pertinent
That I let permeate, through lens & cones
That sit, in the unfortunate orbitals, of those I infect
Those I molest with my script
What I take from them, is guilt
What I leave behind, is innocent
Excrement smeared into eyes to remind
Like I'm that shit...Or, I ain't shit
Either way, I'm evacuated
Now I belong to you
Feel free to rummage through my basement
If you can make it past my dangerous vestibule
Take shelter with my words, under the roof, of my discourse
Become a part of the story
And live...Forever...Written down
~disDain~
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