Lust and Loathing
Mellow-dramatic pouting inside of my room, lonely
Teen-angst phase never outgrown, but still growing
Manic depressive, self obsessed and self abhorring
Wallow in contemplation and satanic children’s stories
Look,
It’s not as if I want to be like this
I’m honestly sick of writing this kind of shit
I don’t like it, I’m bored with it, but it just always seems to fit
Me.
Words like “Lament” and “Depression” come so freely to my lips
Without effort, without thought, and mostly without context
My subconscious expects them to be useful I guess
I guess,
I still have issues left, unresolved
Things that I’ve repressed
Holding back my progress
Because, I’m trying to tell a better story.
It’s not that I’m upset, I’m just tired,
and bored.
Hold me,…
Poems and Short Stories 