Shhhhh

Old poem, but just recorded me reading, so hopefully won't be spam.

I'll probably wake up sobbing again tomorrow
Don't mind my drunken confessions
I have the tolerance of a gnat
But the emotional girth of an elephant
Weighing my light body down
That's my tragedy I suppose
If I were to be dramatic
Though drama emits catharsis
Drama is meaning and beauty - creation
In short: not me
In other words
I'm love sick
Sick for it
Sick with it
Sick in its absence
Just straight fuckn sick
Don't mind my vulgarity
It is what one uses
When convention fails
Expletives are the outcasts in language
They wear leather and smoke all night
While the rest of the dictionary
Sleep, pay taxes, and attend PTA meetings
Profane words are death row inmates
Offering their final translucent confessions
Stripped of pomp or rhetoric
S**t. Mierde. Hijo de la puta madre.
There I go again
It's late and I'm on my third drink
And am becoming vaguely beautiful
In spite of the tarantula
Crawling inside me, through me
Its prickly legs sprawling
Its ugliness spreading
Until I feel like clawing
Clawing at my breast
To get it out
Get it out!
Anyhow, I'll let you sleep
Shhhhh....shhhhh....
it's fine, really
Come morning I will sob on my stoli-scented pillow
While others yawn and smack their alarm clocks...

Author's Note

I stole the title from one of I.R. poems, but it's apt, for various reasons.






Also, the song I have been told is mistakingly attributed to Perfect Circle but is actually Ashe.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

I don't know if this one was written under the influence, but it has that sound, and I don't mean that as a criticism. The spirits can cause us to ramble, and I get something of that here. Really good imagery, especially that concerning profanity. Do hope the morning after this one wasn't too painful. Good work.

[Alessander]

ah, good the spirits come across! That was what I was going for.
Vodka mornings are always the worst, which is why I just stick to whiskey now lol
Thx for reading.

[GunMetal]

You're a wizard of words my friend. The feeling of this poem seems to be erratic to a degree, but it feels right. I can relate to the tumble of thoughts and emotions that can come about from drinking. I really enjoy the narrative quality here. I'm not sure if this is supposed to be addressed to someone specific, to the reader, or just to yourself. It's good any way it goes. I especially like this,
"It's late and I'm on my third drink
And am becoming vaguely beautiful"
The only thing that bothers me is that the playlist credits the song to A Perfect Circle, but this song is by a defunct band called Ashe. That's probably not your fault though (silly music streaming websites). Despite the mix up, the song went well I think with the tone of the poem. Not like harmony. More like reverb.
Cheers.

[Deandra Dawn]

Love it love it love it. Clever, nicely written....you got me hooked.

[Muse]

First off Perfect Circle rocks! I've never heard this song..so thank you for sharing.

Love is sick....it's an infestation of warm... fuzzy... and nauseating emotions. A chronic disease..you can't live with it...and you can't live without it.

[Liza]

hijo de la puta madre...i decided to read this again it seems; not remembering the first time five months ago and I realized i see it with fresh eyes - as if you were inside of me or i catch myself wondering if you are a woman stuck in a man's body or if i am a man stuck in a woman's body....nevertheless...i value all you have explored here ~ the ways woman can torture themselves for not living up to what men expect of them or society does....

[The White Wolf]

Shhhhh...me too.

I love the spanish and English facts, Andalucia rules, as I have some roots.
The parralel world of discoust is woven deeply whithin the contradictional you.
As you are here but same time not, your mind is reaching further, always. Lovely, thoughts never stop. As insomina fills the night, and some alarm beepers creepers stand up, as they should, and you-we hate them. same fact is I stand up too. :) diehard.

Written on 27th of March, so lively on 16th of May nowdays, it means you're a detail caver, and the words came out of your heart. I wonder what cup of tea and the herbs are of this specific one.... :) I guess if I may: "marroc-mint"

E.L.

[Emily B]

oh, hell yeah!

[ghost writer]

superb..you give them personalities..I f*****g love that!!!

[Emily B]

s**t, this is crazy good, how have i never been here before?

[Stammers]

S**t. Mierde. Hijo de la puta madre.
There I go again
It's late and I'm on my third drink
And am becoming vaguely beautiful

didn't think you needed the line 'there I go again'. Don't ask me to justify why though?

I just loved this, by the tarantula's entrance, I was in love. First read, it was very much like a spoken word piece, but the more I chewed on it, the better it looked on the page. Brilliant write! A charming, dark quip.