i need to work on structure... but i'm too done with this poem to edit
wrote this a while ago...
REALITY
When under twenty one, driving is your escape of choice.
You forget that the roads are not paved for you alone
Searching for the illusion of control that we all crave.
Consciously turn the wheel, signal, look, and accelerate.
But you are struck cataclysmic and daunted by worries
With hands sweaty and grasping the steering device of delusion.
Your inspiration flies by as quick as the stop sign you didn’t see
As you passed through the intersection of angry cars.
The careful words for your poetic solution are gone.
You know, the poem that you’ve been trying to write
Silently in your head as you drove preoccupied,
Alone with music so loud you forgot that it was there.
Because retaining poetry is like grasping liquid.
Like your lesson-filled dreams the morning after;
Desperate to recount what you know was important
As it slips carelessly through intangible grasping fingers.
Hearing the splash as it crashes to the falling floor below
Reconnecting and sending brilliant shards all directions,
Ones that pierce regret and wound the spinning surroundings
Before melting away and evaporating ghostly- vanishing.
Try to remember those words that held so much promise.
Thoughts flowing through your head like agitating water
As brimming tears clouded your eyes while you tried to drive,
Turning all the lights of the night into spectacular sparkles.
Glittering then reduced into ashes much less fulfilling
Dimming and fading into the rear-view mirror of roads passed.
And you may have stopped crying now but the rain is pouring;
Your sight nearly blinded, forced to trust instinct instead.
Driving in unseen patterns like circles but more complex
Ones we barely notice and would often rather forget.
Leading us nowhere and everywhere all at once
Starting at hope and love but somehow winding up at regret.
Running on empty faith and praying to no one who’s listening.
You hunger to make it one more mile without stopping.
You are drunk with insecurities and lack of satisfaction
Recklessly propelled forward by the pipe of exhaust.
And through dirty windows you see all the others- cars and their drivers
Passing by with paint jobs and lives more beautiful, polished, and poised.
Searching your pockets through lint for lost nickels dimes and soul-fractions
To pay the pump for enough fuel to get home and to sleep to find your dreams.
i'm off to peoria il. speech and debate tournament. one of the hardest of the year.
have to leave my house at 3:30 to get to lax on time.
ew.
wish me luck
REALITY
When under twenty one, driving is your escape of choice.
You forget that the roads are not paved for you alone
Searching for the illusion of control that we all crave.
Consciously turn the wheel, signal, look, and accelerate.
But you are struck cataclysmic and daunted by worries
With hands sweaty and grasping the steering device of delusion.
Your inspiration flies by as quick as the stop sign you didn’t see
As you passed through the intersection of angry cars.
The careful words for your poetic solution are gone.
You know, the poem that you’ve been trying to write
Silently in your head as you drove preoccupied,
Alone with music so loud you forgot that it was there.
Because retaining poetry is like grasping liquid.
Like your lesson-filled dreams the morning after;
Desperate to recount what you know was important
As it slips carelessly through intangible grasping fingers.
Hearing the splash as it crashes to the falling floor below
Reconnecting and sending brilliant shards all directions,
Ones that pierce regret and wound the spinning surroundings
Before melting away and evaporating ghostly- vanishing.
Try to remember those words that held so much promise.
Thoughts flowing through your head like agitating water
As brimming tears clouded your eyes while you tried to drive,
Turning all the lights of the night into spectacular sparkles.
Glittering then reduced into ashes much less fulfilling
Dimming and fading into the rear-view mirror of roads passed.
And you may have stopped crying now but the rain is pouring;
Your sight nearly blinded, forced to trust instinct instead.
Driving in unseen patterns like circles but more complex
Ones we barely notice and would often rather forget.
Leading us nowhere and everywhere all at once
Starting at hope and love but somehow winding up at regret.
Running on empty faith and praying to no one who’s listening.
You hunger to make it one more mile without stopping.
You are drunk with insecurities and lack of satisfaction
Recklessly propelled forward by the pipe of exhaust.
And through dirty windows you see all the others- cars and their drivers
Passing by with paint jobs and lives more beautiful, polished, and poised.
Searching your pockets through lint for lost nickels dimes and soul-fractions
To pay the pump for enough fuel to get home and to sleep to find your dreams.
i'm off to peoria il. speech and debate tournament. one of the hardest of the year.
have to leave my house at 3:30 to get to lax on time.
ew.
wish me luck