Conversation

This poem has been on the back burner for too long. So here it is.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t want me, I’m difficult to get rid of

Infectious in my depression, dead while alive, beyond comprehension

Let me teach my lesson, misery my profession, pain my privilege, death my resilience, breath my obsession, fucked up can’t be corrected

We are the fallen leaves, when you rot to soil in your soul of turmoil you cease to be

When life is a fantasy, what should we believe?

What tangled webs we weave, heavy as led, we bleed, from the start as a seed, we be until we can’t anymore, strings of a noose sting until you can’t feel the gore in your pores

To die evermore, and lose the reason for life, roll the dice, revise your mind, before you leave your life behind

There is no forever, I never smile, I’m no longer that dead demented sentimental child

The bile in my mouth washes over the drought, amounting to a bone dry humour, and an empty dark happiness like a thunderclap, love laughs unhappiness, silence breeds death

So I keep on writing, and act like I’m fighting

And strike life’s cycles like lightning

Bury me meritless, broken dreams, nightmarish

I know I’m not wanted, but I don’t have anywhere else to go

In the winter snow, unloved, depressed, unrested in my augmented resentment

When people hate they don’t need a reason, just an excuse

Hate me for a real reason, not a lie

Reasons have use, words are heard abused

Life fits together poetically, like old leather memories

The demeanour of a dream, subtle themed extremities, sow the seams of fantasy, and grow the clovers of reality

Such is, life, dilapidated in all its captured decapitated observations, the world and my soul, will we raise or fold?

In conversation, facing annihilation, it’s getting old, I’m losing patience

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.