Poetry

Contemplations on Medium

Thoughts on this platform

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Sometimes I do it on purpose and at times I just catch myself lost in it. I would like it to change but it seems as though my affinity for it is ludicrous.

my gaze has scorched many walls and many ceilings but there is nothing behind my gaze for I am lost. A tap on the shoulder and back I am to a reality I’d like to change and be free from.

they said journals help the mind but I beg to differ.

many words I have scribbled on this white page with parallel lines that turn a piss yellow when my light comes on.

ailments and dreams are painted in cursive to ameliorate what bothers me but all I can do is add to the ailments.

I wish to cross off the dreams I have, to etch off the goals I have set out.

Those that I call parents discourage me from writing such words, they say write positive words, they say speak good things about yourself, and they say why would you write at all?

Here is my answer:

I don’t want to talk about it.

conclusive cursive utterances sound like inconclusive babel after 5 minutes.