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Please excuse the comma splices, tense changes, verbosity, etc. I was just a youngin' and now I realize the error of my grammatical ways. Plus, I preferred the flowery and descriptive writing styles of the early 19th century and beyond rather than the short, journalistic post-Hemingway-style of writing. I love intense imagery and descriptions in general. Still deciding whether I should edit my old poetry for grammar mistakes or take the Beatnik approach and fuck it.

Disclaimer: I only wrote/write on bad days. Grand days have never inspired me enough to write as I've always used writing as an outlet. A majority of my poetry is angsty, dark humored, or depressing, however, I don't have depression, and I'm not self-destructive or suicidal by any means. My writing is mostly a tenfold representation of the kind of day I was having at the time. Embellishing the realities of my bad days on paper helped turn them into good days. Not sticking my head into an oven anytime soon (or ever, actually). :P +10 points if you got the reference.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment

Monday, March 23, 2009

Non-Existent Motives

I laugh at myself in the mirror.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Why should I care?
Why do I care?

Wasting hours wondering—
How my hair looks
How much weight I've lost
How I can get a date

Why ask questions when you know the answers?

Much brought on by life—
Useless rubbish.

Does it matter—
How much oxygen we waste
How many candles we blow out
How many times we say, “Hello”

Why live a lie when there is no truth?

No point in moving on,
Or starting off fresh,
Or living up to expectations.

Eh, what the hell, I’m—
Dropping my comb
Grabbing the Doritos
Hanging up the phone

What’s the point?

Don’t confuse with apathy,
You’d have to care enough to classify life.

Copyright © 2009
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