Unfinished Memory

This is a poem I meant to finish in January 2020. It is now 3 months later, still unfinished, it's a good memory of my growth. Not proud of the poem itself, but how I've surpassed it.

I’m spitting lead you’re wrapping paper
When I’m present, you barely past,

I’m wasting time because you have no future

I cannot stand to be a sitting duck

Who would lie down and die knelling

Before the visage of those who have ran like paint on the wall

And dried into nothing but a different colour of silence,

I will only bow down to another if they are willing to raise their heads;

Rather than bury them

Disembodied anarchies

Of Necronomicon dichotomy reincarnated

Like black and white kaleidoscope’s

Of polychromatic afterimages biomechanics’ pandemonium

Like extraterrestrial vestiges of anorexic ecstasy

Neo genesis spectres of decadence resurrected from the depths

Of disconnecting revenants of revelations renaissance

Of symphonic discombobulated jubilation

Illuminating cyrostasis imitating synchronization

Interwoven chromosomes

Of doppelgänger insanity reanimated Gatling cannons

Gravitating industrialization dusk-light combustion

Sutras of colossal cosmopolitan antioxidants testosterone

Vernacular testicular entrepreneurs of hallucinations cloaca

Crusaders of flash-grenade lacerations masquerade masculinity

Of photosynthesis of residual defibrillators incinerator

Strangulations Evangelion stratosphere’s megalomaniac

Hippocratic avatars of wildcard arteries discharging

Cardiovascular catastrophes of cataclysmic equilibrium

Author's Note

Don't regard this as a poem, but a memory. This work was lost somewhere along the way, it should have been shared over three months before now. Regardless, why not share it now? It's a good example of how much I've learned since then. Please don't see this as something that I want to improve on, but as a memory of how my newer works compare with this half-formed style that I later portrayed with a greater deal of experience and skill. It's here as a marker of how my writing was at the time.

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.