Throwaway Lines

...randomness...

There's been this poem on my lips

Slowly growing from beneath the

moisture building up from suppressed

expression, ideas been chilling on the

tip of my tongue and it tastes like

sweet misery born from boredom and

the absence of others that's lead to my

introspection, thus creating this conclusion

silence isnt golden. it's valuable but anything

but attractive. coincidentally it's the loudest

noise, disturbing my senses though my ears

have moments to rest. instead my nerves

buzz like live-wires tangled up in my tissues

impulses run their course but find no

outlet because here i find no one else.

Thus i'm back at square one. or rather

the first line. there's this poem forming

in the foremost portion of my mind

a b*****d child born from my loneliness

instead of the emotions i normally

associate my artistry with. 

i can't put it up for adoption, so

i figure i'd leave it out in the cold

and see if anything good grows from it

because there's no room in my archives

for a piece that doesn't know how to love

a collection of lines and lyrics that never

learned how to lash out and damn sure

lacked the capacity to consider its

purpose in the grand scheme of things.

essentially these words are random sacrifices

offered up to an unknown recipient in exchange

for space in my head and the peace of mind that

precedes the coming of my literary offspring.