Hello Lovelies.
Welcome to the poetry section of Slip to Surreal.
What a better way to start off than with a whining ode to the biggest bitch in the world.
You can call her Love.
I promise you, most of my poetry is not based upon heartache. In fact, it's something I try to stay away from writing about enitrely. That being said, I particularily liked this piece.
Reasons that Reason Cannot Know
I am petrified
To surrender myself again to you
I can feel terror hanging off my back
Digging its claws into my shoulders
You are a dimorphic source of love and pain
An all-consuming virus
I am chilled
From your cold ignorance
To the aortic pain you bring
Each stab makes the wound so much worse
But your visage is worth a graveyard of a heart
I am warmed
By your taboo embrace
Each touch like lightning
Each graze a grenade
A cycle of destruction I can never resist
I look upon memories
With every emotion the mind can give
Some so strong they are indefinable by words
Phantoms of power
I am betrayed
But crave your stare
As it explodes into my iris
Leaving me breathless and in a state of mute
You are everything wrong
Yet perfection.
To escape you would shatter me
My Stockholm captor
Your words are empty
But an artificial filling is more than suffice
To be placed with you
Will suffocate me
But asphyxiation is tempting
Round and round
I must ride this carousel
As you watch and laugh at my nausea
Round and round
I must go through this pattern
For better or for worse
I feel alone.
I feel alone in a poison dollhouse,
where traffic zooms by. Where empty souls
roam the streets.
Silently screaming- HELP.
I can see the pain twisting from people’s eyes and mouths as they pass me
by. So conceited with their new electronic gadget.
Feeling more attached to something without a pulse
than the hundreds that surround them .
A world so close together yet so far apart.
So far apart that I can feel so alone
Suffocating between people on the subway.
Drifting by the day, where bullets
seem to be our ropes of connection.
I feel alone.
Right at this moment.
As I watch people senselessly shove past each other.
Homosapien paint drying on the walls of society.
Following the schedules of their lives.
Day after day after day.
Who knew life could have such
boundaries?
Perhaps my solitude is an organization issue.
I am the outlier.
Out of place, misaligned, shunned.
In possession of a holy grail.
A chalice of being able to stand alone
without radioactive rays having me under surrender .
Defending my brain matter from stories of sin city or
people who spend their lives in coffee shops.
Striving for the sickly lime lighting of our cities
Thirsting for chemical imbalance to burst
the shackles of our reality.
I am alone.
And I weep.
Not for myself, but for the facades that encircle me.
Children forced to imitate the life of an adult.
Thrusting the sand through the hour glass
Everyday as I stroll the streets.
Loneliness.
Is a lonely word
Standing in solitude among other letters
Weeping on paper
Screaming at words
Trying to escape from its bleach confinement
And failing
Seeping into the page
Becoming engraved in its sorrow.
Loneliness
Is a lonely word
Reaching out for someone
To listen
To its mumbling pleas of mercy
Slipping between thread
Binding it’s lips
Loneliness
Is a lonely word.
The only one you think
Repeating
Repeating
Repeating
Chained from other thoughts
Loneliness
Found a friend
One to spend the days with
Another word
Which tears emit salt
From when it is inscribed
Alone.
My Lovely, Lovely Madness
Do you ever wonder why you dream?
Why you conjure such visions of madness?
Each night seeping into the dark
Constructing the abstract bizarre and surreal
Perhaps Carroll was right, we’re all mad here
Succumbing to true reality at night
Why is it that we fear the night?
Or is it a fear to dream?
A conditioning of terror prescribed here
To reject all notions of madness
To avoid the beauty and brilliance of the surreal
Embrace the light and scorn the dark
What a wonderful world it is in the dark
Such a tranquil earth at night
With comforting kisses from the surreal
An affair of mere hours to dream
Oh what a soothing dosage of madness
Instead of the nightmares when we awaken here
Ventriloquism of life is what remains here
Salvation residing in the dark
Day after day being treasured by the madness
And cherished as people by the night
All hope is left from what we dream
Resurrecting humanity from the surreal
Why is it that we abolish the surreal?
That we dismiss such magic from our minds down here
How can we ignore such brilliance of dreams?
Implementing prejudice to the dark
We must protest for the night
And dive into the madness
My lovely, lovely madness
My cherished thoughts of the surreal
I will fight for the logic of the night
Absorb ignorance from people here
Don’t fret my blessed dark
I will protect the power to dream
What a gift to dream waves of such madness
Such a wonder to succumb into the darkness of the surreal
The night serving as a final glint of hope for the delusional mind here
