Walking Time Bomb

This pressure knows no boundaries
No rules
I sure could use
a coach to guide me
cause there’s a big chance I might lose
my inner truth
and that’s why I abuse this toxic juice
in my recluse
alone accompanied
by solitude
cause chances are we’re all feeling battered
wounded , sore and bruised
so I don’t complain
kept it contained
now I’m running out of room

so I'm looking for
something external
an outlet some extra space
someone to turn to

but all I can find is the notebook
I keep as a journal
the stress has started showing
and the clues are non verbal

and that reality sets off a timer
If I’m sharper cause I’m older
Why does my brains feel like
they've been put through the grinder?

And even the minor
things sets me off
despite writing myself a reminder
that I need to be kinder
but I’m itching to leave the next man with a shiner
its my day off but I cant lay still on the recliner
why sugarcoat it?
stress is a primer
life is a mindfuck
my brain is the vagina!!!!!!!!!!!

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SSmoothie's picture

OKIE dOKIE martyr dear,

Ive read a few and like the quirk in your smile thatfrom my face pulls a smirk
yeah well calm the the frick down every once in a while cause your poetry I like and havent seen some like this in a while! great work Cheers SS


Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS    

"Well, it's life SIMS, but not as we know it" - ¡$&am

CallOfTheMartyr's picture

Gracias Smoothay

Thanks again for taking the time to read and comment on my poem. Really, really appreciate it my friend. Heading to your page now to check out your stuff. See ya there. LOL