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An obituary of Emptiness and her demeaning friends.
I know this is headlined as a story, but I prefer it be a poem. Anyways, poetries are stories:
For four fifths of my life length,
I've never really known
How to feel when someone,
Nevertheless close, dies.
When my mother made her last mortified & hugely derisive gestures On Feb 7, 2072, I did not know how to feel. I could not cry, despite that I tried. When they entombed her, I was absent. Dad and her had separated, so my little sibling and I had to live separated, and separated from them too.
I still do not know if the old adage,
"You only pull the hair of those you love,"
Held truth to our parents.
But if it did,
They loved us two.
Okay, Enough whimpering,
I've never before been unbolted
About my "empty" life.
Exceeding Success but a marriage
Built on rogue riversand and
Awash shortcomings
Gave birth to my unwanted
Frenemy, a frenemy
That brought friends too
Ms emptiness
Was hoodwinked into thinking
That I was a charming individual
With decorums
Of raw nerves and instincts.
Boy, was she wrong.
She would plunge everyday for my crumpled cotyledons, through all my being tossed and turned to uncles and aunties and grandparents who were but investing in my subtle but flimsy quick-wits. At one point in drouth I was Frederick Douglas, working in the landfields for too long hours with no feeding, while the sun grazed over my long skull. At another I was a brilliant schoolboy, gifted but never awarded. Never pleasing Einstein.
I was so deeply rooted
And inevitably lost
In a vast ocean of emptiness.
In her shallow turquoise
She was hungry and everlasting.
Boy, was I too
"The crickets cried
And the years changed
The picketts died
And yes I changed"
In my stygian monkhood
I aced through
Skylar and Charybdis,
With oozes of metaphors
Threw down the gauntlet on her
And my pencils ground,
For my (fr)enemies' paper guillotine
A writer Mirakee fulfilled
From flat nothingness
I made Emptiness
And her demeaning friends
Personalized picture coffins
With bespoke designs
Heavily emptiness weighed
And emptiness I emptied
Days gloomy and sad
If she hadn't died,
I'd.
Apr.06/21 | 09.58.03
© amtupu_
For four fifths of my life length,
I've never really known
How to feel when someone,
Nevertheless close, dies.
When my mother made her last mortified & hugely derisive gestures On Feb 7, 2072, I did not know how to feel. I could not cry, despite that I tried. When they entombed her, I was absent. Dad and her had separated, so my little sibling and I had to live separated, and separated from them too.
I still do not know if the old adage,
"You only pull the hair of those you love,"
Held truth to our parents.
But if it did,
They loved us two.
Okay, Enough whimpering,
I've never before been unbolted
About my "empty" life.
Exceeding Success but a marriage
Built on rogue riversand and
Awash shortcomings
Gave birth to my unwanted
Frenemy, a frenemy
That brought friends too
Ms emptiness
Was hoodwinked into thinking
That I was a charming individual
With decorums
Of raw nerves and instincts.
Boy, was she wrong.
She would plunge everyday for my crumpled cotyledons, through all my being tossed and turned to uncles and aunties and grandparents who were but investing in my subtle but flimsy quick-wits. At one point in drouth I was Frederick Douglas, working in the landfields for too long hours with no feeding, while the sun grazed over my long skull. At another I was a brilliant schoolboy, gifted but never awarded. Never pleasing Einstein.
I was so deeply rooted
And inevitably lost
In a vast ocean of emptiness.
In her shallow turquoise
She was hungry and everlasting.
Boy, was I too
"The crickets cried
And the years changed
The picketts died
And yes I changed"
In my stygian monkhood
I aced through
Skylar and Charybdis,
With oozes of metaphors
Threw down the gauntlet on her
And my pencils ground,
For my (fr)enemies' paper guillotine
A writer Mirakee fulfilled
From flat nothingness
I made Emptiness
And her demeaning friends
Personalized picture coffins
With bespoke designs
Heavily emptiness weighed
And emptiness I emptied
Days gloomy and sad
If she hadn't died,
I'd.
Apr.06/21 | 09.58.03
© amtupu_
