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  • 3 - I Anxious

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    sierra
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    The speaker feels anxious and keeps to themselves. They reflect on uncomfortable social obligations and embraces required by societal norms. Images of glaciers projected on walls and unprepared journeys symbolize the speaker's inner turmoil. When the floor is shattered and the speaker loses themselves in cigarette smoke, their absence is only noticed through a hazy passing. In the bathroom, the speaker finds temporary safety and simplicity, listening to a turbid voice crack along the mirror, while their body seethes outside of consciousness.

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    poem

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    3_I ANXIOUS

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    The speaker feels anxious and keeps to themselves. They reflect on uncomfortable social obligations and embraces required by societal norms. Images of glaciers projected on walls and unprepared journeys symbolize the speaker's inner turmoil. When the floor is shattered and the speaker loses themselves in cigarette smoke, their absence is only noticed through a hazy passing. In the bathroom, the speaker finds temporary safety and simplicity, listening to a turbid voice crack along the mirror, while their body seethes outside of consciousness.

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    3 views1 page

    3 - I Anxious

    Uploaded by

    sierra
    The speaker feels anxious and keeps to themselves. They reflect on uncomfortable social obligations and embraces required by societal norms. Images of glaciers projected on walls and unprepared journeys symbolize the speaker's inner turmoil. When the floor is shattered and the speaker loses themselves in cigarette smoke, their absence is only noticed through a hazy passing. In the bathroom, the speaker finds temporary safety and simplicity, listening to a turbid voice crack along the mirror, while their body seethes outside of consciousness.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
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    of 1

    I, ANXIOUS

    In these sick times / I keep to myself

    The clock strikes a chord. Found in nothing more


    than a pleasantly painful goodbye, a spill
    of wine. The dirt under my fingernails
    that graze a jacket / an uncomfortable
    embrace, societal obligations stemming from
    the fact I have to hug sixteen strangers in yr doorway.

    You, being the beacon of deceit,


    you, the condensation on the table,
    you, the last sips of bourbon from the bottle.

    Glaciers projected on the whitest of walls.


    A journey, for which, I am not prepared.

    When the floor is shattered, and my shoes hidden


    in the depths of my scatter plot sentience,
    my absence is recorded by passing through haze.
    Im losing myself in the smoke of a thousand cigarettes.

    Youre spitting in the toilet.


    and Im listening to yr turbid voice
    as it cracks along the mirror.

    Theres safety in the bathroom,


    theres simplicity in the sink,

    outside of consciousness,
    my body seethes.

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