Self Enunciation

A poem written without sleep

Sadness is home,

Space never left,

The looming dread looms forever, 

concluding will will severe.

Laughter is dull and swiftly ends, 

smoke moves like a bullet to my head.

Awoken by the past, 

happy memories turn bad like rotting fruit. 

Apples were once red and rosy,

Rubbed against cotton, Imitated and left,

Robbed of false promises, which the first verse left. 

The mask which hides the flowers sheathed,

Feelings with even more to give, 

Emotions with so much more to show,

Sprouting upwards and I kiss your fair cheek, 

You’ll feel weak, you’ve gained what you seek, but in truth it is false.

Keep watch and if no one shows, 

Assassinate yourself,

Music is deaf, 

Art is blind,

And Poetry is meaningless.

Author's Note

Any comments welcome

Reviews

[Rachel Myers]

I find poems written without sleep are sometimes better than poems written while fully conscious. I really enjoyed this poem in particular. It's very dark and heavy. It incites feelings of dread and despair.