Poetry

At a certain point
The light grows so dim
Before and after turn to grey
Dismay arrives
On the lips of those who speak
 
So strong in their word
Link to the aftermath
The shitty fucking poetry
The unrelenting bullshit
Of artistic constipation
 
I can’t write anymore
My soul has grown weak
And every time the morning blooms
The phone rings
To sweep me off my feet
 
I’m dying inside
But nobody cares
Because I can’t express it
In artistic divinity
As the poets of great
Who harnessed Spirit
Could
 
But I promise you
At least my heart’s broken
Please listen
For I have no purpose left
But maybe to resonate
With a passer by
Who will never stop to speak
But in a passing glance
Will share a tear
For the life that has erupted
In petty flatulence
 
The residuals of nothing
Crust upon my eyes
And leave me blind
To find nothing but fading lies
Hidden behind eyes
That wish to look
Complex and deep
But really are dirt cheap
And made of fraudulent shit
 
I am so so sad
But I know that no one cares
 
Please just let me fade away
Crying hollow screams
Resonating in the valleys
And mountains
Teeming with life