I?

This poem from 1996 takes a look at my lack of self and feeling like an outsider in the world.




How many times must I write the word “I
Before I understand what the hell I am?
How many days will pass in desolate pondering
Before I take the clock and smash it on the edge
                                                                                    of my life?
“IT WILL BE A BRIGHT SUNNY DAY. HIT THE BEACH. YET ANOTHER PERFECT SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA DAY.”
I like the rain, the fog, the mist, the cold.
I like the ominous  closing in, when I can only see one or two;
The isolated blatancy , the urgency of closure
Comes so clear to me in the white face of fear.
“BAD NEWS FOLKS, RAIN IS IN THE FORECAST THROUGH THE WEEK. STAY INDOORS. IT SURE IS NASTY OUT THERE.”
The sun is fake, breeding artificial tans, implants, and lyposuction;
The false preparation  of winter is sprawled on the sand;
Such a waste of bleach—whiteness—fear of themselves.
I love myself.  I thrive on my morose verse.  I only wish I knew.

“JANE DOE, A FRESHMAN AT USC, JUMPED FROM A FREEWAY OVERPASS AT NOON TODAY.  .  .  AND NOW THE WEATHER.”

~Keep Walking

Advertisements

About ~Drew

I am a survivor of childhood torture. Each day, I put one foot in front of the other, moving forward. To do any less would spell my own destruction. My music/poetry/prose deal with the devastating effect of this kind of abuse on a human being: me. My experiences/thoughts/ideas/misconceptions are exposed here for all to see. Here. I am lain bare, naked, hidden only be the cloak of anonymity.
This entry was posted in C-PTSD, coping, depression, introspection, poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

What say you?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s