It Rains on My Weekends // Gloomy Episodes Forgiven [Poems for the Messed Up]
poems x 2
maybe lyrics... quandaries abound.
It Rains on My Weekends
It’s raining. Again. And again.
It pours on the very day I find my sanity.
A pending reminder: my days are meant to be cursed and resented.
Nothing could make these stormy days any worse except a dose of you.
I’ve had my share of muddy shoes, brokedown cars and rusty playgrounds.
So now choose this day to disappear. I look down and see nothing is clear.
I hold the pictures to my life. The faces out of focus, taken by shaky hands.
In my snapshots, the images are blotty. Too many days spent, standing lost under storm clouds.
The pages are soaking wet. I can see through everything.
I know the ending and nothing could be more fucked up.
Melancholic wishes that bring no promises of happily ever afters.
Reels and reels of film disposed.
Each a tragic attempt at telling a story of a girl who lived and dreamed. And died in a nightmare.
All the films, shot and watched, hold nothing but grains that slipped through the fingers of a foolish soul who wished.
My sad existence is what it is. A se
ries of dreary days demanding outbursts of effort and hope.
I wake to a day filled with so many possibilities yet all I want is to curl up and fade away.
Nothing could be worse. Just don’t come around, and nothing could be worse.
Gloomy Episodes Forgiven
Doesn’t it seem that I’m different?
The mood swings come more often and
take even me by surprise. If only things were squeaky clean and
brimming with bright yellow sunshine. I can’t promise happy smiles for
those all around me, or a cheery face during conversations. Or even a
glimpse at optimism… Not when I don’t want to. Not when I can’t. I
wish for these things in instances when doubt fogs my vision and
insecurity cripples me, head to toe. I wish for all-knowing confidence,
a self so willing to trust and fall into an abyss of unknown
possibilities. Unafraid. Yet I find myself gripping at the edge,
groping for a firm hold so I won’t have to slip into this questionable
hole below. There’s sure fire happiness above me, but there could
even be more greater things below. I’ve slipped into the unknown
before, coming out unscathed. Other times, I wasn’t so lucky. I carry
the bruises and scars around in an invisible backpack. Sometimes life’s
good and I can be my bubbly self again. Then something crashes into me
and leaves a scene of devastation. Life’s too screwed up for me to let
go of the edge so easily.
So for now the gloom works.
Forgive the pessimism, the cynicism, the rage & the depression. I
assure you, you’ll understand when you get a rotten hand of cards in
the poker game of life. Everything’s off center and messed up… to the point that I get angry
& bitchy. I just wanna be separated from everything else so I can
think clearly and be brutally honest with myself.
Now let’s close the curtains on this freak show. - END