(no subject)
Hidden behind the cut because it's kind of long...ish. And because while there's only one Precision F-Strike, the subject matter is...well, yeah. It just is.
I'll probably revisit this one later. The last line is fucking bothering me to no end at the moment, but I can't think of a better way to keep it attached to the metaphor of the second-to-last stanza without it being weird and making no sense. :| And this is why I don't write poetry often.
AA
There is no greater tragedy than death at an inopportune moment.
Tonight counts.
Scrounging for replacements while attempting to keep silent,
Skulking from room to room--
Prowling, really--
Pulling drawers slowly, slowly, slowly;
It's a chore,
It's a challenge,
And, tonight, it proves fruitless.
Nothing. Gone. No replacements.
Fuck.
They never ask me what I want them for
Or why I buy so large a pack to start with
But I'm certain that they know--
And that they hide them, too!
You think I'm being silly.
Or worse--
You think I'm paranoid!
But honestly--
Why else can I never find them when I need them?
And why else, in times of calm, can I find them easily--
Sitting there in little groups,
Waiting to be snatched up for some dark, wet purpose?
No, I suspect they are being hidden,
But with no proof! I am stuck.
Stranded in the midst of a raging sea
While the motor of my boat sits silent.
I suppose manual labor will suffice.
I'll probably revisit this one later. The last line is fucking bothering me to no end at the moment, but I can't think of a better way to keep it attached to the metaphor of the second-to-last stanza without it being weird and making no sense. :| And this is why I don't write poetry often.
AA
There is no greater tragedy than death at an inopportune moment.
Tonight counts.
Scrounging for replacements while attempting to keep silent,
Skulking from room to room--
Prowling, really--
Pulling drawers slowly, slowly, slowly;
It's a chore,
It's a challenge,
And, tonight, it proves fruitless.
Nothing. Gone. No replacements.
Fuck.
They never ask me what I want them for
Or why I buy so large a pack to start with
But I'm certain that they know--
And that they hide them, too!
You think I'm being silly.
Or worse--
You think I'm paranoid!
But honestly--
Why else can I never find them when I need them?
And why else, in times of calm, can I find them easily--
Sitting there in little groups,
Waiting to be snatched up for some dark, wet purpose?
No, I suspect they are being hidden,
But with no proof! I am stuck.
Stranded in the midst of a raging sea
While the motor of my boat sits silent.
I suppose manual labor will suffice.