Thoroughly Modern Miri


You may have changed your name a couple of times
But you’re still the same
So thoroughly modern
Trying to live this archaic archetype
The Arch-Duke of this sickly fleeting life
This so thoroughly modern diligence
You wear so heavily as a mask
It’s wearing on you
Starting to shine through
As though it ever has
My sentenced lack of sense set to ever last
Here we are with your hand in his
Any other way it would be in mine
But why this self-determination
This preservation of reservations abound
My alacrity stifled down to its minimalest
By blood boiling from animal instincts
Ready to charge the attack
Gums spiked with glass
Forming knives in the backs
Of all who appeal your dealings with me
Yet again thinking, only of me
And my self righteous rights
Of my written spitten spite
For all that has, is, and will come to pass
I’ll leave you here to never come back
To leave me free to be at last
For you, I’m done, and for all that I lack.

Thoroughly Modern Miri

Writer’s Block

Writer’s block is the worst
When you’ve got it all to say
It’s at its worst
When she’s left you out to dry
She’s the one
Keeping your love at bay
What else is there to do
There’s not much more to try

You’ve left for me to create
From this blank slate
Too irate to belate
This lowly sickened state

Her love is gone
From your life she has leapt
Nothing but lies
Have spewed from her lips
From you, her love she always kept
You’re amassing sores from all her whips

If I could write something
What would I write
I’d write the words to bring my truest love
The one most made for me
She who could entangle my heart
Yet still leave it to breathe
To focus in my brain
For her to never leave
We’d leave it still, like the water
Looking out, wishing never to escape

We’d disturb the water, ’til it became ever so violent
To cleanse our minds like raging currents
‘Cause only then will we be free
Our minds free, leaving us to be
Ever positive, enthralled with it, embalmed in it
I’m in love with this; in love (with this)

But this page still lies blank
The last one left untouched
This single last canvas
It’s been left unbrushed

So I’ll put this pen to paper
If only to see what comes of it
To see if I can become the shaper
Of that which brings me above this

We’ll see if the words escape
With purpose to take shape
Like some masterpiece
To leave this all in the breeze at peace

Writer’s Block