Blockade Of Perfected Poetry.

Yup, don't ask, don't tell.

Today nothing seems to fit
in the jigsaw of life.
I feel like a piece from another
puzzle, another mess of
peculiar shaped oddities.

Sleep drags out my numbed
unconsciousness and yet I never truly
am awake. Drifting around
like a ghost of a shadow.
It makes me wonder why.

I can't feel your touch and
I can't grasp your hand.
I sit and stare into empty space.
Morning dew wets the miserable
tuft of turf that endlessly grows outside,
Outside in the humid harsh sunlight.

I tear up every last shred of
attempted empathy and callously
thread them to tread the outside wind
with razor sharp nouns and
fierce merciless punctuation.
Those words, wrapped in a robust
barbed wire that stings the very eyes
that read them.

I sit back at my desk and try again,
try to sum up my lengthy horizon
of thoughts into neat tidy lines,
and yet again, I draw a blank.

I really liked that.
Cynical. Poetic. Beautiful.

Inari:

I really liked that.
Cynical. Poetic. Beautiful.

Thanks! I've been getting inspiration from Sylvia Plath

Joan of Arc of Suburbia:

Thanks! I've been getting inspiration from Sylvia Plath

Damn! That chick rocks so much

Inari:

Joan of Arc of Suburbia:

Thanks! I've been getting inspiration from Sylvia Plath

Damn! That chick rocks so much

I know ^_^ she's damn good.

Wow, I LOVE this one. The imagery is awesome.

Joan of Arc of Suburbia:

I've been getting inspiration from Sylvia Plath

And it really shows. I love it. I really love this one. Just the way you're able to put the words together, it seems so simple but when you read it closely it's really clever and complex.