Tale of the Time

A Boy With Roses

At an odd hour in the morning 

I've yet to have a wink of beauty sleep

It's already Thursday 

I'm a bird perched on the branch of a tree

In desperate need of some help

I'm dying for my art 

 

Why?

I can't explain it 

I can't sum it up in a sentence 

No one knows about my bizarre behavior

Or that I'm sea foam green like a dollar 

Consuming cheap soda 

I've pushed my secrets into an oil drum 

I scrub until the grime is gone 

I do it, I do it, then I do it all over again

Every time, it's flagrant

I've mastered the technique of dying 

I'm deadpan and brazen 

Biting my viper tongue 

There's a malfunction in the axon 

My vision is starting to blur 

It's nihilism

 

I'm hooked on the high

I can't get enough of the buzz 

Friday night stuff

Another chapter has been closed 

I'm in a forest of crucifixes

In combed suede, going to my grave 

The pain will wax and wane 

It floods me like dopamine

An endless ocean 

Always here, never there 

 

Limp evildoer, I'm juggling a circus 

Feeling like a bee stuck in syrup 

I bend like a cuticle

Life is a bellyful and I'm a loser 

Singing for Buddha

I haven't felt felicity since I got third degree burns 

Scars when I was young under the sun in summer 

Basking in the heat, I soak in the pulchritude

All the vermilion jewelweed.

 

  • Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 5th, 2020 18:58
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 17
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Comments +

Comments2

  • dusk arising

    Full of mystery and enchanting, bewildering nuance only to jet off onto another tangent. Exciting reading this though i remain confused but that's in me not you.

    A unique style i applaud with a hope of seeing more.

  • PotbellyPleb

    I appreciate this poem on so many levels.
    It's mysterious and the wording isn't predictable, where it goes keeps you surprised. I may still not know the meaning of this poem, but that's part of what makes it good--it requires discovery. The imagery is thought-provoking, which is refreshing. We need more poems like this on MPS. Thank you.



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