I love/hate going back to poems I wrote a long time ago and reading them and realizing that some were really good… and that others were horrible. So I wrote this in the margin of my notes for Algebra (it’s okay! it was an easy class today)
I vomit my disgust on the world,
a tattoo with no ink
bared on the cyber skin
which we created in our own images.
We are the gods and the demons of our own creation.
a million lies
make a beautiful silk web
to deceive ever generation
so the poison has time to take its effect
The random frantic action
of a million minds collide
and collapse our universe within itself
sucking us all into darkness
(I still got the emo writing thing going on, STILL. yeaaaah….)
a 45 degree angle bisects,
red pooling, exponentially growing as it falls
a quarter of the way down my skin.
the stalking “x”
a sadistic past love,
will never be answered,
because the solution is too unclear,
head and heart explode,
the 3 second half life
of a glimmer of a fraction of hope
towards discovering the imaginary
end of life’s problems.
(yes, it’s about my algebra class. No, I don’t get algebra, so it’s quite possible that my phrases are mathematically incorrect, and therefor metaphorically incorrect. But yes, I’m comparing math problems to suicide. HA.)