02-05-2013, 04:16 PM
usually the tension builds subtly on the verge of being seen.
peeping over the precipice, of that wee space in my chest.
I never really did quite put my finger on it, it's like picking up balled slime
the slithering feeling sneaks around leaking happiness ever so slowly.. and subtly.
I'm just never quiiite at that point.. I'm close! but there is there, not over here.
It's a shame really, I should apply more effort to digging up the little bastard
that hides like a small itch on an amputated limb.
In a bout of genius he disguises himself as me, and then slips under table my contentedness, mindfulness lost.
It's only on my sharper days that I see it wandering lazily, sowing little prickles in my mind.
"I cant be here", or "that would be nice", or "what should I be doing", "i'll go to the fridge".
These gnarly little stabs stop me sitting quietly for a period of time. Why I ask, won't you let me sit quietly and in peace?
here nor there, this nor that,
sitting, lying, standing.
hungry, full but flavor yearning, overfull and drowsy.
understreched, over worked, bored, tired, grumpy.
too hot, too cold, too bright, too dark;
nothing's ever right for long.
I'm aware this needs a lot of work, it's a goddamn a mess really. But I'm here for the long haul with this poem as it really gnaws at me. (I'll probably just pick out a few bits and start again in the next few days).
peeping over the precipice, of that wee space in my chest.
I never really did quite put my finger on it, it's like picking up balled slime
the slithering feeling sneaks around leaking happiness ever so slowly.. and subtly.
I'm just never quiiite at that point.. I'm close! but there is there, not over here.
It's a shame really, I should apply more effort to digging up the little bastard
that hides like a small itch on an amputated limb.
In a bout of genius he disguises himself as me, and then slips under table my contentedness, mindfulness lost.
It's only on my sharper days that I see it wandering lazily, sowing little prickles in my mind.
"I cant be here", or "that would be nice", or "what should I be doing", "i'll go to the fridge".
These gnarly little stabs stop me sitting quietly for a period of time. Why I ask, won't you let me sit quietly and in peace?
here nor there, this nor that,
sitting, lying, standing.
hungry, full but flavor yearning, overfull and drowsy.
understreched, over worked, bored, tired, grumpy.
too hot, too cold, too bright, too dark;
nothing's ever right for long.
I'm aware this needs a lot of work, it's a goddamn a mess really. But I'm here for the long haul with this poem as it really gnaws at me. (I'll probably just pick out a few bits and start again in the next few days).
If something happens and you can remedy it, Why worry?
And if something happens that you can't remedy, Still why worry?
www.benjack.co.nz
And if something happens that you can't remedy, Still why worry?
www.benjack.co.nz