8. inspired or infected

no proper resolutions, former endings repeat

dirty dishes piled high for ants and devils to eat

a trophy of atrophy of a heart that doesn't beat

at least not like it used to

 

i lose control of the heartfelt pen

a petty poet playing pretend

retaliate with a rendition of revenge

written about and for you

 

sadness comes slow for me

a breaking dam that bursts forth free

freezing tears that could not be more sweet

a flood long overdue

 

i know how it feels, a condescending comfort told

to know others are drowning doesn't make the water less cold

use it while you can, everything heals in time

profit from your pain, that reassuring rhyme

 

i strive to horrify and mortify

strut away and leave you in awe in the mourning side

and never turn back to see my glory rise

or even if i got through

 

bragging as the genius describes

i abhor his talent, yet adore his pride

of his tragic tale, a captivating storyline

that i can relate to

 

compare your whining poetry

cheap complaints, we all know it to be

a bitter band-aid, it soothes with its growing sting

envy green at his dismal blue

 

after the jaws drop, consolations arrive

he leaves the stage but not before taking the prize

no win and no loss, whether they applaud

no loss and no win, or think of him as odd

 

wanting so bad to shock in every way

but submitting to the facade of everyday

clenching fists kept cool under the steady rain

washing away every bright hue

 

frightened by feelings i've kept

secrets to seduce you to the sorrow i've wept

far too many dreams for how little i've slept

disappointment i often rue

 

apathy hungers, and i must feed

it delicately hangs between a thought and a deed

so i phrase clumsy writings, words you will never read

i begin again but i'm not new