Blots

|Oasis Of Optimism|

An ostensible oasis of optimism,

A farcical façade of fraternity,

A wry realm of relentless replays

Of remnant reminders regularly reminisced.

It's been years since I picked up my thumb

And dragged it across the millions of

buttons, and shut-ins

lacing my world,

In hopes of creating something that

befits an eye.

Pick an eye, any eye.

Pick an eye out.

Pick an eye out, and your misery halve.

Each stroke of digitized ink

Is a gallon of blood on my bookcase,

Each trick of the autocorrect

Makes a crippling slap across the face,

now easier to slap

than it ever was before.

I'm obliged to follow

Whole dreams of a half tomorrow.

Rage.

Bent, broken, irreverent rage.

Spent, unspoken, irrelevant rage

That vents, awakens an iridiscent image

of a demon, unfettered and unyielding

Flaunting a carton of guns, wielding

His insecurities at his environment, burning

Barely feeding an unquenchable yearning,

To be the best in the worst ways imaginable;

His hands, my hands, trembling with woe and worry

alike, cowering with hope and memory

alike, mouth quivering with denial and confession

alike, eyes withering with relish and depression