Poetry Hour: Entry 18 - Obnoxious

This is a stream of conscious poem with a little editing. This is my mind processing the feeling of being perceived as "obnoxious" even though no one has ever told me that before that I can remember. I realize I cook up these negative definitions of myself by myself, drawing conclusions that may be entirely false. All this is also mixed in with a lot of other feelings as well, which makes sense since this writing really is stream of conscious; my brain is, in a way, regurgitating a lot that is welling up within me. This is my mind aflutter in that realm of reflection. 

obnoxious

slow down.
too loud
too loose
high mood
high noon
and i'm liquified
and i'd just die
on the tile floor
pushing a little more
for your yes
for your mess
for this glass
for a laugh
or a few
it's not new
it's my mood
it's the moon
as it shifts
and i switch
back and forth
wanting more
but needing less
as not to stress
myself out
or to shout
far too loud
in this crowd
so you'll hear
that it's clear
i'm here for you.
but us two?
slow down.
i'm everywhere
as each hair
stands on end
as i bend
backwards towards
sliding doors
marking this
a foreign bliss
or maybe that
a syndrome flat
hiding forever
being clever
but never knowing
what we're not showing
so i'm loud
with a shroud
too loose
high mood
high noon
and i'm petrified
that i'd die
'neath these eyes
and darker skies
of your rejection
and the inflection
of your taste bitter
that you'd fit her
better
while i'm still fettered
to you.
slow down.
quiet now
see how
the silence fixes
and transfixes
them to me
how i see
and i'm intriguing
and now they're bleeding
for more words
have they heard
i'm a mystery
i'm very interesting
i'm a bottle neck shut
i'm a bursting virgin slut
seeing everything but
you.
slow down.
can i listen
to this transmission
calling me to forget
and never let
anyone break me
fallen fake pleas
of social indulgence
of self-control quenched
fears of man
fears of hands
reaching for a rung
already strung
with falsification
and dirty damnation
that leads to sadness
and a sort of madness
akin to the sin
we all fall in
and must renew
and must pull through
so i'm trying my best
so i'm beating my chest
at the screaming of death
and the final breath
of truth.
slow down.


may 14, 2017