Category: Poetry

Inside the Glass

I look into the mirror,

Watching the person staring back

And it could not be clearer

That the figure cloaked in black

Is not who I am.

The figure has my appearance,

Looking at me with disgust

And sorrow because it is inherent

That the eyes do not trust

The figure staring back.

I keep looking and reach to the broken

Glass towards the sharp edges

Tinged deep with black omens,

Blood and deep evils of legend,

Looking at the figure staring back.

My hand feels the warm glass full of evil,

The figure looks right in my eyes,

Grabs my arm and pulls me from Eden

Into the hell that exists inside the glass.

 

Reach me via email: roman@impossiblybizarre.com

The Flow of Function

It is not easy to walk in darkness,

Wandering the gray grass fields,

Waiting for there to be any light

Or waiting for the embrace of night

To at least feel the cold.

There is no light shining in my eyes,

There is no warmth in my heart,

And my skin feels numb and weak.

No pain makes me feel,

No food gives me warmth or fill,

No person brings me life again,

A hollow smile to fill a broken face,

A veneer placed to fool the world

That life is normal with no troubles,

To let the world believe that functions flow

Despite the cogs being stuck for ages.

Unable to feel and unable to love,

Yearning to do so hurts more

Than the knife against the skin.

 

Empty Fill

Get full, fill up, keep going,

Fill the empty hole inside,

Do not stop until you can’t no more,

Eat and drink until sick and weak

Feel the way I feel inside,

Like nothing sparks life and joy

Deep into my soul;

Eat your fill until sick and weak,

Fill yourself to fill the hole

That used to be you.

Passage of Time

The clock strikes 12 and stands still,

Nothing stirs and nothing rests

When the clock ends the day

And new life begins and the old sheds.

Life starts and ends at the strike of 12,

But you end much sooner

For failed choices, continuing on this

Path filled with regret and despair.

Follow the future to the bright path,

So that the clock can strike 12 on a new day.

Crazy

You got me thinking out loud,

Not afraid to be proud

Of my screams that vibrate

Through the air of twilight,

I feel myself go crazy,

Crazy and drunken on you,

Falling and falling deep,

Deeper into the darkness

That has left me in a daze,

A daze for only you.

Bleeding Ears

Noise, noise, noise

All I hear is the noise of your

Bickering and complaining for

Not getting your way,

For facing a single roadblock

That does not budge to your privilege.

Loud and obnoxious noise rises

Higher onto the ears of the unwitting

Masses that are the unfortunate victims.

Screams of privilege permeate into

The night, wailing for not getting their way

In a society that requires hard-work.