Vapor Trails

[Falcon2001]

Bleh, this is a hideous poem, but I feel the need to get this all off my chest. Don't bother replying to it, I know it's bad and I really don't care what your opinion is on the matter, either. This is just being posted to get it out somewhere.

 

 

 

I'm confused

Because it seems that I

Have a tendency

(more of a habit)

Of slipped on gloves buttery and slick

Whenever I handle a relationship

 

Is it worth it in the end, to entertain notions

Of tousled sheets and morning sunshine

Shining on two bodies slicked with sweat?

Is it worth it - seeing my track record

Of irrational, irresponsible, irrevocable behavior

To even still feel pain or love or lust?

 

I look at these things that I've done and I ask myself

Whether I have merely been saying the wrong things

Or if somehow I am flawed on a much more base level

 

If, when I was being created, God's holy hand slipped

And fractured a delicate connector somewhere and in his haste

He decided it would make for an excellent character trait

And tossed me screaming into the world

 

Is it normal to have to learn how to interact with others?

Is it normal to always need something to worry about

Is it normal to wonder if these things are normal?

 

I wonder sometimes why I still breathe - I have far more than enough reason

To take a knife and run it down both wrists until I see myself begin to flow

But I am afraid of death, now, and have grown weak.

 

Why is my memory fading from view, like the sands of time slipping away

Why can't I find someone who will love me, or at least stay with me in the night

I stay up, remembering how nice it felt to sleep next to someone

And realizing that in the end, it was all my fault.

 

Prose is a lazy poet's way of expressing himself

I am less of an artist than I wish I could be

But for now, I will sit and bemoan my fate

And continue moving forward into infinity.

[Regel]

Falcon,

 

How often I have done this? Brutalized by someone who knows every dark corner of my soul. I allowed him to befuddle me with self doubt and loathing. While she was alive my grandmother used to tell me it was the devil that did this to me. I don't know that she was wrong, but I do know that I still shave that face. I hope you learn from seeing these words on a page that what you seek can't happen until you learn to smile in the mirror and laugh at your human frailties. Those flaws are in all of us and if you can not forgive yourself, how will you ever forgive those flaws when you see them in someone you love?

 

Regel