You thought that my obsessions had come to an end at books and movies and comics and TV shows? Well, I hate to say it, but apparently not. I have since discovered the wonderful resource of Tumblr to feed my poetry addiction, and I think it’s fair to say that I now have more quotes written in my school calendar than ever before. So, yeah, I wrote a poem about how I’m obsessed with poetry.
I feel like I’m getting a tiny bit better at this writing lark in relation to decent stand-alone lines, but I still find it hard to make a cohesive piece of work. I have about a gazillion half-finished poems on my computer and in the backs on notebooks. As ever, though, comments are completely welcome; I apologise that you have to see this somewhat cringe-inducing writing, but hey! *self-motivational mode activates* This is the only way I’m going to improve, right?
I Fall Asleep With the Pain of Poetry Staining my Fingers
What they don’t tell you is that this gift is really a curse,
a chemical equation set to carbon that will
stab at your nerve endings
until you don’t know who you are except for the pain.
What they don’t tell you is how before long you’ll be addicted to this ink;
how before long you’ll be begging it to carve into your skin
its truths that aren’t really truths at all.
(Because I don’t know what the truth is, darling,
but I don’t think it tastes of starlight.)
Well I’m sorry if you were looking for
the heroine that preached a different lexis, but I only tell the story how it is:
me, smoking poem after poem into the fading evening light.