Inaudible and raw.

[heslopian]

This is a strange poem. Just when you think you have it sussed out, it blindsides you with an unexpected U-turn. Some cliches poke through here and there, and now and then it rambles off on messy tangents, but there's also some brilliant lines, a few of which I've highlighted below.

Inaudible and raw

You said there was a rage within me.
It's the curse,
in a verse
and worse, much worse.
It's tasteless, no motive, no mood, no explanation,
my reputation ruins me, don't you see?
Where are my parents at?
Fucked me up with a dead cat.
Set an example, make me a sample of the rage and the stage in the wage that gets me admired,
undesired.
Silent cage on the blank page you try to destroy,
Oh, I annoy
you
in the way I say "Shit, this just ain't my day."
But you don't pay to read my rhymes, it's not my time, turn away.
It's black on white paper, I write, to get me undressed with these things I confess.
It's advice for the lice crawling in your eyes. This kind of physical horror has been done before, but the context is original.
Sigh.
I'm adversely bad,
bad,in madness
you instilled in me,
don't you see?
With the photos
and the motives,
and the moods
of all crude
things in the days
and the ways
that you kept
my mind
at bay.
Safe and sound I am bound to noun and adjective and consonant and vowel, An example of the dark wit I love about you.
incontinent bowel
for the untouchable,
undesirable,
indestructible,
inexcusable
father
and mother
shooting heroin,
that's a starter.
Fucking martyr.

Thanks for the read, LA.