I'm trying my hardest not to be a hindrence today,

It takes guts to be a Bukowski,

An Addonizio,

So eloquently they place their poison onto paper,

Like mad scientists gently dropping stimuli into a petri dish,

I envy their freedom of broken heartedness,

Their right to calamity,

I wish I could tell the whole world,

How fast my head is spinning,

How often I pick myself apart,

How quickly it all turns grey,

But I know my demons carry a great weight,

And I'm terrified of making a friend carry that burden,

What's to stop them,

From cutting that dangling string connecting my life raft to their cruise ship,

Leaving me to drift aimlessly in the sea,

As I had been urging them to,

On those lonely nights I let the drunken poetic rats,

Out of their filthy festering cages.

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allets's picture

poetic rats

Now that's one way to look at poems. Hang onto that cage wire - refuse to be evicted. No chance. I can't drink and drive. Or write legibly while sober. Yep, must be a poet. Uh huh.



mypersonalpoems777's picture


yeah i wanted to think of something to represent how I feel about my own sadness and things.

Nicholas Dulepski