deepundergroundpoetry.com

Image for the poem               The Truman Show

             The Truman Show

         
       
        
         
On days when there are no nightmares-gunshots-feeling    
of sinking in quicksand-or falling from red skies-with    
vast space acting as a safety net-tiny squares growing          
I just start to wilt like an unused cliché          
hating-hurting-hated-hurt-hollow-hung-over          
I stand under the shower-let the water          
wash me over which it does and then          
there is always the monotony of          
water rolling down in trickles          
the body stops feeling it          
and it gets tedious just to          
stand erect facing the walls          
the-same-old-goddamn-walls-with          
the-same-old-cheap-tiles-almost opaque-          
not even offering a faint glimpse of          
my beaten-swollen-bluesy face          
and after a point the water gets inside          
my eyes and the tears just duck somewhere          
probably due to a difference in osmotic          
pressure or whatever and it starts to          
burn-upon opening-on closing and that          
is usually the time to get out which          
I almost always do-wiping myself clean          
on the way back to the bedroom          
I stand naked in front of the mirror          
bloat my stomach and try to disgust          
myself and often end up admiring          
something or the other and that disgusts me    
even more which more or less solves the problem          
I play some sleaze-probably Rochelle from 90's          
jack off-whimper-shiver-cower and the tears are          
usually back by then but there is no place to hide          
I try to feign my interest in reading some book          
probably A guide to make slipknots or something          
by Mishima or Houcellbecq or even Debord          
most of the times I end up reading-some pages          
before feeling an urge to hurt myself and then          
I simply switch on my cell phone and watch the          
text messages pour in-surprising me with their          
inflow-as the moment I expect them to stop one more          
gets in-like the stronger sperm in the white muck          
I immediately get a call and after an exchange of          
expletives the sobs kick in-premature and then          
there is every possible effort to hush and baby    
Often it feels spectacular but sometimes it is          
just too much to take down the throat and then          
more abuses-a dead line-a broken phone-a smile          
hyperventilated from the ensuing melodrama          
I start my computer-update my status-like what they          
have to say-offer-on everything-anything at all          
share my opinion-like-then try to strike up          
something-resembling a borderline conversation          
most of the times it's just an exchange of          
emoticons which become downright too predictable          
after a time and then the girls invariably ask          
if everything's alright and then-        
that's-just-about-it-always          
Damn women-pushy-probing-curious          
nosy-lovely-wanting-caring-loving          
so where does that leave me-probably          
a murky-smelly place smelling like          
a storage room for rotting road kill          
and feeling like a comfort zone-may be.          
         
         
       
         
         
Written by Whitewand6
Published | Edited 2nd Jun 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2 reading list entries 1
comments 4 reads 1136
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:59am by SweetKittyCat5
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:51am by Too_hot69
POETRY
Today 11:21am by Grace
COMPETITIONS
Today 11:15am by Her
SPEAKEASY
Today 9:24am by Too_hot69
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:56am by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES