deepundergroundpoetry.com
D i s c l o s u r e
I want to die by laughing out loud every time
my therapists tell me its coming along nicely
rather I refrain from crying out loud in labor
and try to show my appreciation thru my eyes
but they never see them-probably because a few
thick books and a dozen case studies makes them
see thru people-dissecting them in saline water
in the petri dish of their minds-undressing the
souls and raping till their million probosces
begin to rot in gangrene and then they switch
sides and begin to probe thru the muck till they
find the giant abyss left there-precise-worthwhile
then they change the approach-medication-schedules
I want to wail at the top of my lungs every time
my girlfriends tell me they want to have babies
and live faraway in exotic locations in cottages
eating organic lettuce-fucking on the sand as it
sifts underneath our hard-sun-soaked-lithe bodies
they create intricate dreams-opening cabinets and
filling them with details collected from sources
magazines-snippets-eavesdropping-twitter-movies
until the day we make out without protection and
a month later I hear them tell me about the delay
in the release of some album and the fights and
how their implants are beginning to kill them
my laughter usually spells the end of it-always
I want to hack-chop-slash-kill them every time
with a sword made by some old Samurai gone quiet
when I get kidnapped to one of those parties-the
ones where everyone smells-looks-talks-behaves
good-to an extent-that minutes become nails and
life becomes an assault-like low-budget SM flicks
only worse-much worse and those smiles-glints-nods
along with the billboard of collective emotions
simply gets to me in an unnerving way-sickening
me to an extent I take long walks which end up
with me vomitting-crying-chased by street dogs
I want to do all this but I think-like every time
what if in the name of father-son-the holy fuck
I am just ill-equipped for this world-this time
another giant fuck up in a faulty assembly line-
a smug-self-righteous-snob-a turd-retard-whatnot
may be I have been living inside an igloo with
my vain pride-grand existential illusion and the
collective mesh of escape routes and rabbit holes
with bubbles-ideas-cosmetic angst-forced issues
and may be they are all right in their own accord
those shrinks and those girls and all those peole
I mean what are the odds-no-really-like-really
I want to so do this but I have not-like every time
or else I won't have been here to finish this up
after having undergone all of those borderline
psych-evaluation tests online-coming out unscathed-
often with flying colours-to my utter dismay/disgust
as Armstrong sang What a Wonderful World hoarsely
the song caught in a loop-corrupt-like me-like you
Photograph courtsey-Mehmet Turgut
Published 24th Apr 2012
| Edited 9th Jun 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Anonymous
24th Apr 2012 4:35pm
Sumeet Panigrahi (Whitewand6),
Awesome! Loved you whole stanza, "I want to do all this but I think-like every time"!!! The whole ill-eguipped, assembly line fuck-up was GREAT!!! You had me drawn in to the very end. Yeah, what if, really!?!? Que the loop...
tornado
Awesome! Loved you whole stanza, "I want to do all this but I think-like every time"!!! The whole ill-eguipped, assembly line fuck-up was GREAT!!! You had me drawn in to the very end. Yeah, what if, really!?!? Que the loop...
tornado
25th Apr 2012 10:26pm
27th Apr 2012 2:07am
Wow. That was really intense but absolutely wonderful. I don’t know if what you talk about is fictional or not but I totally believe that its true. Very touching
27th Apr 2012 5:41am
assiralc1999
Thank you for stopping by. And for everything
you had to say. Yes it's true, albeit in a
fictional way. If you know what I mean.:)
Peace
Sumeet
Thank you for stopping by. And for everything
you had to say. Yes it's true, albeit in a
fictional way. If you know what I mean.:)
Peace
Sumeet
