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poem 34- 6-13-15 -THE DESPONDENT DORK 

the opening line will read
“I’m tired, the sun is coming up”

I wanted it all to end
but I was nowhere near done

a self-involved recluse
with a savior complex
contradictory and incongruent
to his own sophistry

with the Plath plague
in the dismal desert
you’re the despondent dork

when feelings subdue
and all thought is suppressed
vision is clogged
your heart burns
and your stomach aches too

you are reduced
and revert back to fetal position
at the edge of the mattress
at the center of the room
where you feel trapped and safe
a soul present in all dimensions of depression

you feel glum
while the flowers bloom
you feel dumb
while others applaud your efforts
you feel like a fraud, a hack
you feel like an existentialist
cause that’s what you truly are
you will not reach the sublime

not with feelings like this
not with words like this
not with poems on solitude

you bathe in the banal
you sullenly soak, alone
you closed the door

you heard a knock
your lips didn’t move
but your pride answered back “NO”
then something disguised as dignity
dug it’s way out
and added “I’M NOT HERE, I MOVED AWAY”
you then heard footsteps
walk into the distance
you were happy for them.
You were there
recumbent for a bit more
you held on
for as long as you could
then you realized
you should actually leave
and do something else

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