3 relatively short poems I wrote last night

(1) A title-less poem about something

I hate that Facebook gives me social anxiety
Like. Damn. I feel like a fucking failure
On Facebook.
Where everyone is a fake best version of themselves.
My fake best version still can’t be confident
behind a computer screen
Alway typing away a status I’ll never post
Though to be fair
Some of them
Like this one
Turn into poems
I was just going to lament it
A little snippet
About how pathetic I am
Because I know I’m not alone
Having discussed this with a friend
Earlier in the week
And I never look down on anyone else for it
But I best be sure to gut myself for the pleasure
And it’s such a complex reaction
This extreme state of self-loathing
I’m drifting in
And I can’t help but panic when Messenger fucking pings
Logging in to clear a solitary notification
Like sweeping away a tumbleweed
From the doorway of a failing business
And it’s disgusting
To even be talking
About something as pedestrian
As anxiety bleeding onto and stemming from interaction
Digital or otherwise
And it should be my demise
The weight of shame
Pulling my neck to breaking
I should snap like a brittle, sun-bleached twig
For having mentioned it

(2) This poem also has no title, it is also about something

So the fingers are a-tapping
And Uncle Charlie is predicting
Helter Skelter from his deathbed
But nobody really knows what that means
And the Holy Wars of race and color
Gender, creed, and marriage equality
Will keep us dug into each other’s throats
For the benefit of some gun manufacturer
Well into the 22nd century
I keep praying for a generation to rise up
And eat the 8 holding half the bag
While Sweden burns its trash
To light its cities and reduce waste and emissions
In the United States Arkansas gives rights to rapists
And expects women to raise the mistakes
All while draped in a poor translation of Sharia Law
If there were some higher power
They’ve long moved on

(3) This one, also title-less, doubles as a note to myself.. neat!

Holy fuck
You need to write something fun
Everything out of you is anger
Anxiety and incensed political bullshit
What about positivity and levity
Aren’t you longing for a vacation
From this constant aggravation
No rhyming or apologies
Get goofy
Isn’t there a light on in the blue space
Where the tentacles crept through the ceiling at night
In the apartment above your old place?
Can’t we get our fiction on?
There’s already too much real
And you aren’t adding to the equation
You are just venting your own fear and desperation
So please
For the sake of everyone
Write something fun

(4) I wrote this directly after 3 (I lied, there are 4. It was a very not-clever ruse), I post it mostly to illustrate that I cannot take my own advice. Because I am silly, and in a silly mood. It also has no title.

Fingers lingering on keys
They have been too familiar with
And none of the reasons they were together good
The words stood out from the processing screen
And a scream was heard, volcanic
Broken and sobbing
Raggedy heaves of wizened sorrow
The wires digging for honeycombs and calcium
Pulled out the stamina it would require
To rebel against
To resist

if you got this far: thank you, and sorry. ❤ M


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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