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It's not often that i find poetry that makes me physically sick to read.
Even less often, i find poetry that makes me shoot guilty glances to either side of me, making certain that nobody's watching me read the filth. The sort of absurdly bad poetry that gives you those creepy "Stupid Chills," where the back of your neck tingles and you blush a bit, you feel so embarrassed on the writer's behalf.
Today, i read one that blew them all straight out of the water.
Let's face it; it wouldn't warrant its own entry if it didn't.
Upon reading this poem by one of my oldest mate's buddy from school, i knew what i had to do.
i'm hosting the first annual "Absolute Most Embarrassing Goth Poetry to Read Ever in the History of Ever Award. It's kind of too bad, because i've talked to the guy who wrote it before, and besides being something of a Drama queen and a hedonist with a penchant for one-upmanship (In other words, A GOTH...), he's a fairly decent, even marginally smart individual. But i digress. Without further ado, here's the envelope.
[Drumroll]
*AHEM* "Aaaaaaand, the award for 'Absolute Most Embarrassing Goth Poetry to Read Ever in the History of Ever,' goes to the following entry, authored by a friend who i will allow to remain anonymous in shame."
[/Drumroll]
The sky is as black as
The eyeliner smudged and dried
Into a trail running down
My face.
I count the
Stars like I count the
Scars
And the air is the perfect temperature
To suffocate.
My breath is short
My breath is deep
My breath is taken note as
Hardly there.
But the still feeling all around
The dead feeling all around
Will allow my eyes
To only stare.
All the pretty aching feelings
Painted on the wall
Scream and cry for light
Make me feel my fault
And I can’t set them
Free.
But the deepest voice singing in my head
Twists my heart further than it can twist
And arms wrapped around me so lovingly
They do not exist
And I cease
To be.
Now go watch your favorite movie, eat a quart of ice cream and some chocolate, light some candles and have a bubble bath. You'll feel better in no time, i promise.
On another Note, The Onion has once again proved itself to be entirely relevant to me...
..."God, my links alone contain unlimited fodder for Mom's neuroses," Widmar said. "She'll have access to not only my life, but the lives of all my friends who have web sites. She'll have the names of all the places in Minneapolis where we hang out, which she can—and will—look up. With the raw materials in my blog, she could actually construct an accurate picture of who I am. This is fucking serious."...
Courtesy.
