My Inner Madness

Kinda long and wierd...

Please

Pass the salt

You’re (she’s?) whispering (un)sweet nothings

In my ear

And you’re (she’s?) in

Desperate need of drowning out

            I figure salt’s as good as any (other) liquid

 

So I’ll wash my hands

            (Over and Over)

                        (And Over)

            (Again)

Of you

(Her)

            (It’s called cleanliness

            Not OCD)

 

I counted 15 teeth

Before I was swallowed

By the crocodile

            (The song told me not to smile

            But the crocodile didn’t seem

                        Fussed – I guess

            My deep frown

                        Was just as appetizing)

 

I take four-hundred-and-ninety-two steps

To the bus stop each day

            (Sometimes I run out

            And have to ask my brother for

            A piggyback for the last part.)

So that I can catch a bus,

That is 12m long

            (But sometimes I have extras

            And so have to use them up

            Walking on the spot.)

And 3.5m high,

To school

            (Those are the days when

            The strange looks I get

            Are a little less strange)

A forty-minute journey away.

 

Sometimes the journey

Makes me feel so suffocated

That in my head I’m shouting

Faster, faster, faster

Crash, crash, crash

Just to make it more interesting

            Just so I can escape

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

            The repetition

 

            The repetition.

 

Sometimes it drives me so crazy

(The drowning, suffocating sensation.)

That I feel my pulse racing

As I sit still in my seat

Longing to scream and shout

And run

           

Run

                        Run

                                    Run

 

And my chest hurts

            (My heart)

And my hands hurt

            (My clenched fists)

And my head hurts

            (My… )

 

Sometimes when I’m waiting

At the bus stop

I like to watch the people in the cars

That come rushing past

In such a hurry

To be a part of

The repetition

The repetition

The repetition

The repetition

The repetition

…

And I just look up at them

Straight at them

As they come near

And hold their gaze

Until they’re gone

 

I just like the look of

Puzzlement

As they are suddenly met

With a pair of unflinching eyes

Some of them look uncomfortable

            Their eyes flick from the road

            To me with some level of uneasiness

Some of them look merely curious

While others seem personally offended

By my lack of humility

 

But it’s the ones who look back

Straight back at me

Even if only for a second

With eyes just as unwavering as my own

 

It feels almost as if we have connected for a moment

Understood each other for a moment

A single second

In a world of Repetition

                        Repetition…

That may well never be repeated…

 

 

Sometimes

When I’m standing at the bus stop

I have no thoughts

And so I just stand

Ignoring everyone

Just watching the stillness

Of the air

Or the motionlessness

Of the turquoise railings

That stand around the train station

Across the road.

The lack of movement

Comforts me.

If something never moves

It can’t repeat…

Days like that are called the bad days

They’re the days when I don’t like anyone

And I won’t meet their eyes

No matter how much they talk to me

            (I don’t want them to see what’s going on inside)

 

It’s on those days that I hear her the most

Those are her favourite days

And she uses my quietness

To get to me

From the inside out

 

She tells me

(You tell me?)  

(Again)

            (She likes repetition)

            (When she can use it against me)

All the reasons I have

To hate myself

And because she’s (you) the voice inside my head

            (My conscience?)

I have no choice but to listen

(Right?)

Because I can’t drown out

What’s in my head.

            (Not even with salt.)

 

I just can’t drown you out.

            (My Inner Madness)  

 

Reviews

[Chirpy!]

this was one of those "special" poems where you don't really have to read it to understand.

[Moods]

What a great, emotionally charged, unique write. The age old question of 'what's in my head?'

Nicely done.


S

[Beatrice Mars]

Grin....
In a world of Repetition
Repetition�
That may well never be repeated�

love it......

[shinybluestars03]

Wow this sure was long n i tend not
to read long poems but this really drew me in.
I can totally relate to it as well especially the part of
waiting for the bus and just shutting myself from
everything around me. All the repetition an on-going story.
Great work!!
Thanks for sharing

Best wishes