Sad Poems

Poems to Cuddle Up With


The crushing weight
Of the taste
Of a whole ton of waste;
The suffocating vacuum
Of the dealings, back room,
Of a sudden love and hate;
Of all the "of’s" of my love
Of my life and above
How it turns me out to space;
Spacing out, spacing in,
Spacing myself to feel again
How I did so long ago with haste;
But "haste makes waste"
And so I place
My spaced out face
In a backseat, backroom reflection
Of what I see with these eyes so placed,
...So eagerly self-maced,
To cry chemical tears for a blatant missing space;
A spacey place requiring only good taste to enter, where you can't leave even if you lose the race;
So locked in is this resilient sin
Of just wanting to win
But not wait;
Patience is a virtue, and I am whatever the opposite of virtuous is when I have my eye on the prize of a demise so nice in the times where I feel it the most;
And so like a ghost I haunt these halls
Of half-painted walls with stalls
Of inequity and a lack of brevity,
Waiting for my turn to be ghost busted;
An apparition with a clever suspicion
That the halls don't belong to me;
An apparition with diminished vision
Of the division that haunts me;
I'm a ghost of me waiting to be set free
From the depravity of being me.
Time to go back to ghost jail.