Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Sign Off. Forever.                              (Updated) 

Words in my mind.
            Rolling, as the orange leaves engulf the trees. 
                        From my over-stimulated hypothalamus.
                                    My 32 by 22 inch desk pushed, in the claustrophobic room.
                                                Tongue trying to express the erratic heartbeat within.


Typing the pain away, as my pudgy fingers make the banging music.
            On my beige comforter with the wet, white pillow.
                        My knuckle keeping the memory in the wall for all eternity. 
                                    Keyboard dented with the pressure of the pain. 


So where did the small tubes with the long names go?
            Many heads moving in one direction. 
                        Thoughts I have while I am in my little corner.


This is why I resemble a ghost.
            Madness of the red cups in all crevasses of the 8,000 square foot home.
                        Needs of others met, while mine are flowing away.
                                    To a place never to be seen or cared at the 
                                                End.

Should I keep continuing the never ending typing?
            can keep it all in.
                        Stop the others to visualize my black holes.
                                    It is the pain, put on the URL, seen by 2. 

see the red engulfing the clear flow in the cream ceramic tub. 
            Am I ready for the final: 
                        Signing           

                                    Off.



Sign Off. Forever.                              (Original) 

Words in my mind.
            Rolling, as the orange leaves engulf the trees.
                        From my over-stimulated hypothalamus.
                                    My 32 by 22 inch desk pushed, in the chocked up room.
                                                Tongue trying to express the erratic heartbeat within.


Typing the pain away, as my pudgy fingers make the banging music.
            On my beige comforter with the wet, white pillow.
                        My knuckle keeping the memory in the wall for all eternity.
                                    Keyboard dented with the pressure of the pain.


So where are the people going?
            Many heads moving in one direction.
                        Thoughts I have while I am in my little corner.


This is why I am not seen.
            Madness of the red cups in all crevasses of the 8,000 square foot home.
                        Needs of others met, while mine are flowing away.
                                    To a place never to be seen or cared at the
                                                End.

Should I keep continue the never ending typing?
            I can keep it all in.
                        Stop the others to visualize the black holes in my heart.
                                    It is the pain, put on the URL, seen by 2.

I see the red engulfing the clear flow in the cream ceramic tub.
            Am I ready for the final:
                        Signing          

                                    Off.

1 comment:

  1. This poem has left me speechless. The format you chose with the line breaks before the sentences and the words in bold are so creative. I only realized that the words in bold formed a poem within a poem after reading it a second time. The specific word choices throughout the poem, such as "hypothalamus" and "clear ceramic tub", come together to make such a genuine poem. The final words of the poem- "Signing Off"- make a huge impact. I would suggest changing certain sentences such as "I can keep it all in" or "This is why I am not seen" to language less simple and more poetic. Other than that, incredible poem!

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