mello

 Thump. Thump. Thump.

That's the beat of a headache from lack of sleep.

My headache from lack of sleep. My little experiment, cause I like to push myself to the brink of mental combustion, cause i am convinced that i will not bust. Busting would entitle putting myself in a state of mind I cannot handle.

But I can handle it all. And the mental combustion would not be the fall. It would only be the point of realization. Realization of what, i do not know. The day i find out will be the day i have become completly bored with my life. It will be the day i combust because of daily repitition.

The only thing i cannot stand, Repitition.

Like the life of a washing machine. Created to do only one thing. Wash. To make my clothes like new. To fade the colors. To bleed the colors.

 

 

Reviews

This has a lot of potential to grow into a very nice piece. It feels a bit undone right now. You could get some depth out of this if you really put a magnifying glass to your ideas and solidify them. i like the monotony of repetition in this poem as a bad thing. You are clearly saying something about the cycle of life, but that is still a bit unclear. You are saying that its there, but you have to go beyond that in order to achieve the emotion. Go a little bit further than "to fade the colors," and "to bleed the colors." I know what you're saying here, but it needs more. Good Luck. Thanks

[TAO]

Haha, this reminds me of a very mundane job I had at this factory for whirlpool... Truly, it was the very first time my actual MIND ever hurt... I definitely feel where this is coming from.