My heart betrays me.
It is the fault that causes earthquakes in my rib-cage
Causes my lungs, now just a tired building, to collapse.
My body implodes into a warzone,
But I’m losing this civil conflict
That rages through a landscape I find too vast.
I let my nails dig into the land
Until they find that blood rich treasure.
I try to convince myself happiness waits with peace
At the end.

I am not a conqueror.
I am the uninspired,
The neglectful and forgetful
Expressing creativity in cliché metaphors –
Sometimes an entire paragraph only translates into breathlessness.
There is nothing great here,
Just someone new to write old
Pointless poetry.
My pen measures tremors like a seisomograph
As I wonder if I’ll be able to read my handwriting come morning.
Does it matter?
This is just another metaphor for nothingness.
It’s hiding from reality, lying behind words
I betray myself in this false portrayal,
Pretending I am a home or a temple or a nation
Or another world.
Anything other than just me.

I try to convince myself happiness waits with peace
At the end.


2 thoughts on “Trying

  1. This is an excellent piece of descriptive writing. I do hope that it comes from the head and not the heart. As like all of your writing it sends out a strong message. But one so talented should not be concerned about the future.


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