You could ask me why I stopped
And I wouldn’t have an answer
Everything left when I stayed in doubt
Frightened at the answer
I’ve lost my way, my sense of self
I’ve answered too many doors
A poor sap oozing from his pores
The decay of defeatism and doubt.
Stout defenses align me
Such that once you present
I’m sent in a fucking tailspin horror show
Because you have breasts.
And I have breast envy
Lying that women have it easy
Because they can lie, cheat & steal
Kneeling for forgiveness & get away with it.
However, I becry the injustice of any such
Human fucking over and with our hearts.
This melancholic tart dish
Serving up putrid acid and shame.
I want to puke out my insides
Because they poison every part of me.
Rip & tear myself to pieces
But why bother rebuilding?
This edifice has served and protected
Yet I’m wasting away without a clue.
Today a volcano could erupt and I’ll celebrate
Tomorrow fall to pieces because I gained 3 lbs.
Pen to prose may be my only salvation
The journey is certainly dramatic enough.
I don’t know where I am going or what I want
Thus an easy prey because Creator knows they love me.
She doesn’t respond although I give her every reason to let go
Power in her mind for an appropriate taste
Of my boundaries
So I obsess and mess up my week
Because I am weak for attention.
Yet simultaneously doing so little for so much
Blushing at the interaction.
Is this intimacy?
Playing w/ our bodies and hiding our hearts?
Some things feel so right yet are so wrong
For the path laid out before us.
One of my own doing in infinite worlds.
Never escaping myself or the things I love.
My cries for help are exhausting.
Who is this man in the mirror?
What the fuck even happened?
Why have I lamented for so long
Only to return full circle?
Empty spaces torment me yet there is another
There behind the curtain
Waiting, pouncing, feeding the darkness
And walling me off.
Christopher Loflin
17 Oct 2020
There is just way too much pain inside to sit idly by. I have written hundreds of poems to vent and there were so many moments where all I wanted was recognition in some form. Buuuuuut I really don't give a shit what happens. I know this is healthy for me to write and I don't know why sharing it matters, or should. But I'm going to do it anyway because that is what I feel like doing.
There is no title. Here ya go.
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