deepundergroundpoetry.com
Despair
On the edge of collapse, on the edge of freedom, it takes one step to extinguish it all. The burning wounds have led me to the ledge and the fire within me burns my core leaving boiling tears streaming down my sweltering face. Dancing yellow, orange and red taints blinding the vision of my future. Is this but hashes or my undeniable destiny? Hitting the bottom, figuratively and truthfully. I’m fine.
Another beer.
Chugged it. This isn’t depression; this is life. Baboons living in a kaleidoscope. Still seams to high…
Another beer. I always loved beer. Salty yet so satisfying, keeping you thirsty until your body can’t take it no more. Slowly sipping on this one. Contemplating the nightlife, like a wild Van Gogh art peace. Little trails of car headlights, like the traits left by his paintbrush on the canvas of the city. There are no stars here; it isn’t as pretty as his imagination. Soon we won’t even be able to see the moon. Human pollution and the wonderful creation of our species – creation, destruction, it’s all the same here. I’m powerless so I consider myself only partly to blame. We are bound by are indefinable destiny. We are enslaved by humanities past and the genes engraved in our DNA – the great qualities transmitted like a disease by our ancestors. These traits given to us by those who preceded us direct our liberty. I don’t choose what I do. It’s all an illusion. One day we will die. I choose not to see our last breath.
Who doesn’t like to pollute, I thought, as I threw my old bottle onto the ledge. It collapsed to little bits, like a broken mirror. With it came bad luck. Superstitious humans innovating nonsense, that’s what we are. The bottle is half empty, proof that there is no good, there is no redemption. Only two left to buzz me hard and attenuate my phobia of heights. Miracles? I totally get why Jesus loved ‘em. He got a river of wine. I would be satisfied if it started raining vodka – but then again maybe that would just be warning that we, as humans, REALLY have to stop throwing shit on the ground.
Maybe I should have brought a full case of 24. This has to end.. I’m fine.
Another beer.
Chugged it. This isn’t depression; this is life. Baboons living in a kaleidoscope. Still seams to high…
Another beer. I always loved beer. Salty yet so satisfying, keeping you thirsty until your body can’t take it no more. Slowly sipping on this one. Contemplating the nightlife, like a wild Van Gogh art peace. Little trails of car headlights, like the traits left by his paintbrush on the canvas of the city. There are no stars here; it isn’t as pretty as his imagination. Soon we won’t even be able to see the moon. Human pollution and the wonderful creation of our species – creation, destruction, it’s all the same here. I’m powerless so I consider myself only partly to blame. We are bound by are indefinable destiny. We are enslaved by humanities past and the genes engraved in our DNA – the great qualities transmitted like a disease by our ancestors. These traits given to us by those who preceded us direct our liberty. I don’t choose what I do. It’s all an illusion. One day we will die. I choose not to see our last breath.
Who doesn’t like to pollute, I thought, as I threw my old bottle onto the ledge. It collapsed to little bits, like a broken mirror. With it came bad luck. Superstitious humans innovating nonsense, that’s what we are. The bottle is half empty, proof that there is no good, there is no redemption. Only two left to buzz me hard and attenuate my phobia of heights. Miracles? I totally get why Jesus loved ‘em. He got a river of wine. I would be satisfied if it started raining vodka – but then again maybe that would just be warning that we, as humans, REALLY have to stop throwing shit on the ground.
Maybe I should have brought a full case of 24. This has to end.. I’m fine.
Published 12th Nov 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 653
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
