|
Mind Frustration
by Sam Roberts
Wavering catastrophe, my hand drums a small brain
Just a closet smoker, a hermit stinking out the foul student smell
With rich, fruitful smells only my type can enjoy.
Crowded in this 12 bedroom big brother amused house,
I fail to like the people around me and I am not usually this confrontational
My tear risen eyelash is part of my blood cowed body
And my body is now a despondency I have acquired - quickly
Thoughts I have - provide a claustrophobic environment, which admit is my own doing.
And my Lips have sealed themselves. Pupils have dilated.
I would give anything to be able to shout and scream at them
But my tongue tears itself, and my prospects look low
All I can here is a corkscrew, silently digging the wall
And I wait even more so for it to cave in on me.
10/21/2004 Posted on 10/21/2004
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 10/23/04 at 05:58 AM Yes, its so difficult to get out of our shell when the external is so non condusive to communication to our type. |
| Posted by Scott Cadence on 10/26/04 at 07:41 AM This is so brilliant - I think I get something different everytime I read it - its the poem that keeps on giving. Good Stuff! |
|
