I'm 100% sure no one reads poetry on here, so I'll upload this.
I'm still doing the 30 day challenge but it's more like a 60+ day challenge because university is kicking my ass and I am so dead inside. I just wanted to write something small and creative as a stress-relief, so here is a "poem". I wrote... all of it... tired and sleep-deprived, but oh well.
I emphasise poem because this is as free-form poetry you can get. It's borderline a story, I know it lacks poetic techniques and whatever, but I don't have time to add more structure and fix the language. 2 busy being in debt to the government and not getting my debts-worth of education, ya feel.
monster
It begins with
torn and worn edges,
maths textbook.
Kitchen bench,
they huddle together,
minds churning.
She leans forward.
So does he –
They're breathing same air.
Hands touch
sending sparks past
his eyes,
through his mind,
down his legs
to his toes.
Everywhere between
lights up like
Christmas.
Cast a side glance,
she doesn't seem
to feel it too.
He's not old enough
to understand electricity's
current –
Setting aside,
it fades into
mind's edges,
to be thought again
when all begins
making sense.
•
She shrinks.
He can see
over her headband.
Something quivers
inside him;
a monster.
It dislikes
blue eyes,
long lashes, her.
His heart twists,
painful, as if
the monster
has seized his
organs, pulling
all apart.
He wants her
to look more,
look away.
Stop looking,
but linger longer
please.
He snarls
at the beast
who craves.
His heart,
being torn apart.
Right from
wrong, blurred
as he drowns
in her gaze.
•
There's a stranger
in the bathroom,
he thinks.
He isn't sure
if it's him
or her.
Her eyes
closed, mind
long distant.
His hands shake,
fingers white
as toothpaste.
He forgets
how she sounds,
sometimes.
They are silent.
Mouths pressed.
Ears blocked.
He stops looking,
so it's
easier
to ignore the
monster chewing
at his mind.
•
Curved over,
golden wisps waver
in morning light.
Her lashes dark,
brushing against
speckled cheeks.
He looks through
his fingers,
tired.
If his eyes
linger too
long, then,
he'd break down
as electricity
burnt him out.
He could not look
at her,
won't look.
It's easier
to pretend
that
what his eyes
see, heart
desires, are lies.
Otherwise,
those lashes
will crawl
across his cheeks
when he
closes his eyes
at night –
in the form of
a nightmare.
•
I don't need
love, he
whispers.
Wood boards
cold under
his feet,
seeping from
cracks under
a door.
She has
someone else
to gaze at.
Someone else
to drive
insane.
After being
the monster
for so long,
the boy
realises he
had torn
his heart apart,
now craves
another's.
But the remaining
pieces
still his hand,
steering
him back
to bed.
Safe, safe
in
bed.
•
Growing older,
not wiser,
the difference
he comes to
realise
someday.
Somehow
they'd drifted
apart
and yet
the tides pulled
them back again.
She tucks
a strand
behind an ear
looks nervous,
and says,
"I need you."
His monster
chuckles, dark.
"She loves you."
He stands
frozen like
a pillar.
"I don't know."
Running screams,
the best
idea.
His feet
plant themselves
in ground.
He begins growing
weeds from
his knees.
"I know
you hate me,
and I'm sorry –"
Don't be
sorry, he
says.
His mouth
numbs
and shuts.
Her eyes search
for a sign of
life in his.
•
Has she always
been this
small?
She fits, a
perfect puzzle piece,
into
gaping wounds
from an internal
battle.
He regrets
all those missing
years as
he ran away
from
himself.
For he holds
a stranger
in his arms,
and she loves
him, though
he was always
sure she
felt
different.
Maybe his
eyes were
eaten out, too.
Stolen by
the monster,
who told him
to fear his
love in the
first place.
He was whole
again, and
whole
felt very,
very
wrong.
Up for your interpretation.
Now I must sleep to prepare to be awoken at 6am tomorrow to have a picture taken of me, and many others, looking very sleep deprived.