Personal Hell

Damp this place I found no way to flow. Oh Yeah.

Sold my soul, so I could grow, but found my toll in the end.

Displaced I am, no where to go. Oh Yeah.

Shattered glass ripped the thick a*s air, Tonight

a pefect picture of my misery, framed sight. Oh Yeah.

I shook my head it bounced for dread.

I searched for gold, and now I'm sold. Oh Yeah.

The air was cold and now I'm old, f**k yeah!

My arms, my hands, my legs hold me down. Oh yeah!

Gone now, cause I'm a doll like you.

I chose this fate, and now I'm done.

We are all dolls.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Kayla]

I like this poem!! It is very dark and realistic because it is the real world!! Great job!!

[Pax Analog]

Reads like a nihilistic song lyric, most likely death rock infernal.

This poem has a universality too, re the shadow side of the human condition, a side that gains ground the more one identifies w/mortal weight and passing time only.

Indeed we are dolls in our materiality. Without a steady-state (not religious fakery) deeping intuition of more than meat, life is increasingly hell in its relentless banality. Even our personal loves must connect to a deeper higher Clearing or it turns to hate or indifference, more fuel for infernality.

Blake wrote succinctly, "Damn braces, bless relaxes" -- a tonic clue for turning either hell or heaven into a mere play of Consciousness, instead of a prison, or an escape, for the illusory self.