Disorder: A Poem

 

A pixelating tv screen, no

Consistent image, nothing

Is there to see, anyway.

This roach has been struggling to die

For hours, lying on its back

Waiting

For

A

Final

Smash

Death in life

Like a dull knife

Barely useful

Halfway through

Nothing beats despair

A face so monstrous

No one seems to dare.

 

 Prayers to the lost souls

Cries put to bed

Happy endings are truly

Truly,

rare.

 

The baby girl outgrew her pink dress

The baby girl has no one to hold hands

But a mesh fence

It’s rusty, all so rusty

 

Kids playing outdoors

A ball kicked back and forth

No breaks taken

Remember when we didn’t think about our hearts beating

We kept on going, our bodies filled with life

And Our heartbeats ahead of us

The taste of things, raw

Pain can be meaningful.

If it’s quite enough,

The screech will echo

And your spine would shiver

From hearing the train breaks

A sad solo violinist

 

His face on her breast

Leaning,

Sorrow, breeding

Come to the graveyard

The one with no gates

Not a single guard

Come take a look

Doing it all for the sake of art

You know you have it in you

But, imprisoned

You can feel it

You can’t name it

And Nothing is ever finished

A man’s voice yells

Honey, we have to go

It’s now or never

But why!

I’ll take you somewhere better.

I’ll show you something different

Said the man, with nothing to offer.

 

But the hours, time suspended

Time elusive, absolute

For all the things that never ended

Never allowed to, chased

And haunted down

The enemy is one step behind you

One step ahead of you

At every corner

On every wall

Glorified, seemingly imprisoned

Footsteps of a prison guard

Sadistic, symmetrical, steady

Evil is a man

A pickpocket

Catch him if you can…