Futile

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  • Shank
  • would like to say something proverbial, but greatness isn't spontaneous to most people

Futile

I'm no drug addict
But I'm a human pin cushion
Acupuncture's ambiguousness causes holes
In an inadequte fusion

I'm hollow
Yet I'm full of inconcieveable pain
It hurts like suicidal cuts
To maintain a pleasureable gain

But I'm so twisted
I slash and bleed orange
And since I'm so empty
Insecurity uses my body as storage

I'm an instrument
I get played like a cello
Stroked by those horse hairs
Makes a sound so mellow

But it's played in a rock band
Overpowered by desire's overdrive
Everyone else is so strong
And they tower over mine

Like mines on the brain battlefield
Cause mind explosions
And it burns inside
Making my heart corrosive

Emotions are chemical warfare
And I must be Bush 'cuz I certainly can't find them
They're hidden so well
They probably have my confidence behind them

'Cuz I can't find that either
I could just set ablaze like ether
And become a narcotic air breather
Or a toxic waste creature

If I get over this feeling of doubt
There's no way I'd lose this metaphysical bout

Bombs over my belly blow bowels to the sky
Yet they implode back into me, replacing my eyes

So I can only see blank boils bubbling backwards
because beauty is only indecent exposure to me
Public showings of attention attract algarhythms of
abstract abnormalities that absolutely sheath thru me

Tears sheer like sheep scissors
And my cheeks are 40 meter dashes
Those drops always win state
'Cuz they always sprint the fastest

Outrageous cries seem to be so petty
They come in different colors like confetti
They slither down my face like spaghetti
And I can't eat it 'cuz I'm full already

I can't take this
I rake it
I fake it
I try to shake IT

But IT ain't goin'
I'm thinkin' I'm on
But IT is already knowin'

What my next move is
I hate the way my mood is

When I try to hide it
It shows through like sperm to a black light
So I'm arrested and convicted
And get the life sentence twice

"On what charges?" I ask
I'm told to plead the fifth
But in my mental constitution
My amendments are thirty-six

Cutting the vitals
Seems vital to live
So to shorten closer
To these cleavers, my wrists and my neck, I give

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To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

Shank’s Poems (8)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Futile 0
Unwanted 1
Time Is Going To Tell It 0
The Lonely Cry 0
Let Me Ask U Sumthin 0
A Smile And A Little Sweet Talk 0
Girl With The Curls 2
Rambling Through Thought: A Consistant Trail Of The ADD Mind 0