Untitled

My mind fell asleep in the back of the jeep,

and I am barely alive, but I'm trying to drive.

The world's morals died, while I never tried,

and sentients lied, with mouths open wide.

You cannot fathom the immensity

of the f**k I do not give,

With a self destruct propensity,

and no viable reason to live.

I can interpret no loss and savor no gain,

and I find celebrating the mediocre vain.

I am barely alive, but I'm trying to drive,

Colorblind to traffic lights I barely see my plights.

I'm consumed with a feeling I'm hellbent on killing,

while I'm trying to hide from this slow suicide.

I refuse to use any knife to cut short this life,

with my own numb hands, before I understand.

And while I drive in the night with a tough sleep to fight,

when the sun glimmers in sight, I know everything will be alright.

Reviews

[Jake Donald Stephens]

Your poems are never high schoolish in the least. Closer to Edgar Allan Poe-ish.
Hopefully, that's a compliment. Well, from me it is. Never liked his stories, but always loved his poems.
In any case, I for one would definitely buy a book of your poetry.
And tell other people to read it.

Hope to see more.

[maurice_forgets]

Hi Demyra,

Sorry, but all I could think of was a desperate, twisted, Jeep commercial pandering to the easy-death sentiments of some, yes -- high-schoolish -- Goth community enamored of trench coats, knives, obsessive truthfulness and suicide fetish poems.

Idk, maybe I'm not your target reader-audience…?

Please don't die, (and please don't kill)--


mf