A String of May Poetry, Cut Short

It’s been quite some time since my last post, hasn’t it?

But, I suppose that’s been the case for most of my time blogging on here (besides post-graduation from undergrad when I was in a writing frenzy). I truly hope to get back into that kind of groove again. I just have to remember not to push myself too hard, which tends to ultimately lead to my failure.

For one, I can’t just go from not blogging at all to expecting myself to post something daily…

Ok, I guess I can, but it never works out when I get over ambitious too soon. And, in the long run, I just end up disappointing myself to the point where I’m not posting at all.

But, that’s all besides the point!

What I have here for you today is some poetry I wrote last May. I wanted to do an exercise where I wrote something ANYTHING daily. And my only rule was plastered in bolded red as the header of my Google Docs file.

It read:

“Don’t overthink it, just write!” 

(Which basically translates to “Don’t obsess about being ‘perfect’ or sounding silly, just write what you feel in the moment.”)

And, so, I did.

Well…that is, until I didn’t. I stopped after writing 7 entries.

Either way, I’d still like to share them with you here. So, without further ado, here are my “daily” May writings.


May 2, 2016

I feel like a mannequin.  

Physically present.  

Mentally abroad.  

Wearing the appropriate “uniform”

To fit in.

Tittering at the slightest shift in weight.

Unable to steady myself.

Quiet and fake.  

An object both noticed and ignored.

May 3, 2016

The murky brown elixir is forced down my throat;

Each gulp restoring life to my falling eyelids

As the voices around me become distinguishable once more.

Each measure of awareness becomes the image

Of insanity.

Eyes wide.

Fidgety hands.

Words throwing themselves

At any ears that’ll listen.

Unnatural movements

That can’t be controlled.

A price that many others

Need not pay.

May 4, 2016

A pool of blood.

A grimace of pain.

A woman’s shame.

May 5, 2016

This day is

Restful eyes

With a restless mind,

Revelations of

Needed haste,

“Plans” to leave

As demons reign,

Talk of furry tails,

Tea and books

A day of gray,

Shots abandoned,

Eyes fixed on

The hours.



May 6, 2016

The city is mist.

Its base,

the neverending rain.

Like a flower in bloom,

The buildings reach for the sun,

With as little success as those

Who live closer to the ground.

May 9, 2016

There is a demon inside

Who makes the mundane,

That recurring cycle of



It takes my breath.

It pushes hard against my skull.

It burns my eyes to the point of fatigue.

It binds my muscles in place.

But perhaps

It is actually an angel

Who is causing this agony,

Using my body to

Encourage my freedom.

May 20, 2016

I try to delve inside myself

To learn the truth within my heart

And soul

But this lake of consciousness

Is as solid as ice

Unwilling to crack beneath my feet

And reveal its depth.


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