I write a lot of poetry now, because I'm in a creative writing class, so I have to. I'm putting a line between each poem, because they don't have titles, and I want you guys to know that they're not all just one long poem, K? K.

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Billowing cream.
Overflowing soft.
Uncontainable flexh.

Push on the cream.
Shove on the soft.
Bite on the flesh.

This is frustration.

---

An air of chaos permeates
the mind of every living being,
aware of it or not-

And one lonely splinter, broken
away by a flood of annoyance, may
have a cathartic moment of splendor,
but a clueless hypocrite seldom
survives the afterglow.

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Why is it that those who are happy
Stay that way, and

Those who are not
Always are not,
Until they wither away?

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I cry.
I roll up in on myself.
Nothing can be worse,
Nothing will be better.
I feel no hope within myself.
Then- a voice-
It permeates the air.
It calls to me-
But from where?
From the radio- it calls to me.
A promise-
One of love- undying love.
The tears stop-
I see a face.
A plastic, 2D face.
I reach-
Fingertips graze paper.
Warmth that is not there-
I feel it through the plastic skin,
And it is not real,
But I do not cry.

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Spinning speirs.
Colorful curtains.
Floods of flashbulbs.
Charmed children,
Eyes gleaming at the glory,
They absorb.
Clowns crash from
Every corner.
And acrobats fly
Through the air.

Then,
in the back misty darkness shrouds
the misery that cannot be mistaken
or contained, but-
only shrouded.
People of promise,
seldom see the heart within the
beast,
the mind of the monster.
This mind that absorbs the misery,
forced upon it by others.
This mind that feasts on the degredation
of night, on the demeaning acts of
others, and on the despair that
follows both.

Charmed children do not take in,
eyes festering with falsely laid fury.
People of promise-
Only absorb what they are able,
And then destroy the rest.

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