Mayhem

Poem that has to do with not caring anymore and feeling trapped by your own vices. Feedback would be appreciated.

Mayhem

My current place in life

Non existent

Trapped by my own vices

Stumbling in place

I have no desire

No will

All I have

Is this whiskey breath

This Lucky Strike

To ease me for a little while

I walk around

Looking for the answers

The reasons

But honestly

 Who cares

Optimism can only get you so far

I sometimes spit in the face

Of that optimism

Because this misery

This sadness

It’s comforting

      I lock the door

And throw it out

That way

No one gets hurt

The anarchy that ensues

Lands on me

As I paint this beautiful picture

Of destruction

I admire it

Because it’s what I know

The whiskey stays ever present

As a companion

The Lucky Strike flickers

In and out

In sync with the mayhem

That’s when I feel home

Reviews

[Laura Lynn]

That's when you feel home, with Lucky Strike and whiskey, how manly, I'm assuming you are a many, Optimism can get unruly from us, you lock the door, I really get a sense of your emotions as you are reading this and how these actions you feel strongly about, they make you feel and you have a sense of certainty and conviction about it in the moment

[Voiceless]

Sorry for the late response. You are on point with the moment comment. At the time, I very much felt this way. And sometimes, it'll come back. But for now, the door is opened a little...just to get some air :) Joking aside, thank you very much for your review. It's greatly appreciated.

[Valentine]

This is so depressing. There is a whole world out there to see. It doesn't have to have people in it at first. Look at all of the wonders God made. His paintings when viewed can chase the blues away. I do it without the booze and cigarettes. Valentine

[Ghost of Jupiter]

There is a certain comfort one can find in our vices or even in our sadness... Especially when it is the only thing that keeps us company. Another well done piece. :)