The Four Walls Of Existence
Where am I?
I am locked in my four walls
I hear a serenade for my abandoned soul
nobody wants to talk to me
yet I have to make these calls;
others swear, depreciate, laugh at me
I am not myself there, but here;
here I exist
when no one is looking over my shoulder
I can communicate freely
what my entrails have to say
to come out of the pain
where I am only myself here, not there
yet everything I try to say
disappears behind the veil
of yesterday’s and today’s feed
without bringing nourishment within
just an imaginary view
of what I want to achieve
when I finally let go
of all my enemies
and dispense my poems like unwanted kids
always in my womb
produced solely on my own
***
originally published at https://medium.com
***
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
Find me on Medium
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