Poetic Imbalance

these words that i write,
misunderstood, cast aside.
a broken heart bleeding on a page,
a fallen mind's infatuations.
levels of emotion,
fields of metaphors,
all in one useless attempt
to describe the unnamed.

i open my eyes and am blinded by light.
pauses between the stanzas
of a disenchanted dream.
words,
moments,
feelings,
rushes of euphoria.
the things i hold dearest inside
are meaningless
to everyone and everything.

just stop for a minute,
forget about the past.
contemplate and assume
that you understand the truth.
reality is hidden
behind a mask of confused thoughts.
read the spaces between the lines
of my wasted and inane eternity.

valuing the shallow
and losing all my hope.
everything's lost inside the dark.
searching,
hoping,
wishing,
praying to my idols.
beauty is thrown away
and life is that much more convenient.
destitute and alone.

emotional dilemmas.
i rush to comprehend it
and i feed off my illusions.
etch my name on the side
of your broken existence.
forever emblazoned on my face
are these wicked, painful smiles,
like empty pages in an unfinished book.

ancient relics,
scriptures of my divine decay.
nonchalance is the obvious answer.
emotionless,
apathetic,
leaving hope,
drifting into the unknown.
the spaces between reality
hold all the purest answers.
i know this yet
i do not listen.

read all the words,
inspiration inside of nothings.
expressing a lie,
concocting a grand scheme,
and one day you'll understand
all of my
poetic imbalances.
-KnowOne
© William Crabbe 2002

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"Too weird to live.... too rare to die..."

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