*Explicit* Angst.

No one can give me a clear answer
It is like trying to balance one hundred tiny grains of salt
On one hundred tiny blades of grass
Every time I make any progress
The winds blow in from the east
And storming coldfronts
Start the process all over again.

I am trying my best to hold everything in place
Including myself
My parents relationship
My lovers love
My sisters mental health
My books
My poetry
My job
My life
Life.
What a stupid word
For a stupid boy
To write on a stupid sreen
To the title of stupid poetry
That is simply just steam
Pouring out of my fingertips
Writing feverishly
Each word overdramatic
And misshapen.
Everything looks clunky,
Out of place and wrong
I am angst and keys and pointless rantings
I am stupid.
I am fucking stupid
FuckshitmotherfuckershitcuntbitchfuckdickwadbitchfuckfuckFuckFUCK
….
Feel better yet?
No.
Maybe?
Yes?
Not really.
I feel worse.
But not-
What is it?
I just feel…
Nothing.

How cliche.

*Explicit* Angst.

SootheSayer

Joined January 2012

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Rant

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