love of poetry, hatred of self 24.11.2024

TW
Sometimes I want to die
Sometimes, I like to write

no one really questions why I write my poems

Some praise me
Some, indifferent

And compliments and clicks rarely mean anything to me
My ear drums feel hollow to the echoes of approval 

No one really have asked, why I write my poems
Only i, ever wonder

From what I can see,
Poets seldom write in love
In esteem
And confidence

Poets write with angst
With anguish
And hatred

It's sadness that seek comfort
It's redemption, that seek validation

I see new faces at poetry nights
Their outfits, eclectic
Different

Sometimes double denim
Sometimes a strange hat
Or a garment

You can tell they no longer have anyone to dress for
They are all freshly heart broken

And then they disappear
The regulars stick around
Equally overdressed and underdressed at the same time
But still, The new faces They come and go

And maybe the new faces recovered
From their grief
From poetry
Maybe they are in love again
And the regulars
Maybe we struggle with a chronic discontent
Maybe we justify it with nihilism
With cynicism and the absurd

The Nihilists 
 are rarely pleased
They rarely nod in approval
The cynics they only want to read
They are too busy editing their poems when others are reading
Nothing else means anything to them

And It's the absurdists that I attract
We laugh in the face of all things not ideal
We laugh like we are manic
We laugh like we adore

But, no one really have asked, why I write my poems
Only i, ever wonder

Only i know that, I want to die.

And i am angry, more than any cynic combined, 
Any socialist, any sexless retiree,
And I am sooooooo angry, sometimes I feel like i will melt,
Or abandon all language, and run up and down Sydney road, barking at people..
And if anyone delicious looking gets too close to me,
Id like to bite into them,
And not let go,
A form of intimacy, so frowned upon,
Yet a desire to express my anger,
Only that, can satisfy
Only Diogenes, could empathise

And no, no one really have asked, why I write my poems
Only i, ever wonder
How
Sometimes, I like to write
And Sometimes, I want to die

Sometimes i feel like everything is so sad that it's funny

And no, I don't have any depression, 
And definitely no addictive tendencies,
Only my addictions have me,

I believe that alcohol needs me, and I like to keep weed company 
And maybe nicotine,
Would be so lost without me,
And thats a tragedy i have yet to figure out how to find funny 

So yes, No one really questions why I write poems
Some praise me
Some, indifferent

Sometimes I want to die,
And sometimes I like to write..

I wish death was a lover that i could eat with and fuck
I wish death wasn't so different from life, or poets themselves,

No one really gives a shit
And no one really cares

Irregardless, and indifferent, to how it started
Or how it really went,
Like all poems, good, and bad,
Life likes to come to its end

So maybe that's why I feel like
Writing a poem
In my most nihilistic sense

And maybe that's the real reason why I write

So yes, No one really questions why I write poems
Some praise me
Some, indifferent

Sometimes I want to die
And sometimes I like to write..

?


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