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Satan called me spineless

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Hypnotized by the alluring midnight black flowing hair

mimicking the curtains blowing in the ocean’s breath,

I’ve never had such a beautiful image of Satan

as I do right now, as I compose the symphony of my death.

I’m not someone who fancies the ideologies of satanism,

though he is who lurks when I am looking for a friend,

why wouldn’t you want to talk to someone with expertise

in constructing a scene as melodramatic as your end?

It’s not like I have a poor sense of direction or imagination,

it’s just that I get so fixated on the methods that I do NOT like,

for instance, stoning or drowning in a pool filled with sharks,

not fond of guns, asphyxiation or stabbing with a spike.

I tend to obsess over the things that I don’t want to happen

instead of making happen the dreams that I wish,

I’d just hate to have to come to grips with growing soft inside

I wouldn’t want to be remembered as a spineless jellyfish.

 

 

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 
 

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if any worsening of symptoms

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The bright white round one is to lift me up,

plus an off-white oblong one to help calm me down.

It may seem a little illogical and unreasonable,

also, I can’t promise you, they’ll keep away the frown.

You may say that it seems rather counterintuitive

like taking out a loan to pay off an equal debt,

or purchasing a million dollars in lottery tickets to,

win a million dollars? seemingly the worlds stupidest bet.

But the thing is, I have been feeling much better

since I have been traveling along this new path,

It beats the hell out of the alternative side of me

when the anxiety and depression are on a warpath.

I don’t like being torn down, limb by limb like a tree

that’s vulnerable to a logger wielding his chainsaw,

or being trapped by my dark isolating depression

like a frozen duck stuck in the ice just waiting to thaw.

I’ve tried to do this the “natural way” but to no avail

as the craziness inside increased and grew much stronger,

So I may not be completely against feeling a bit dazed

if it means that I won’t feel that profound pain any longer.

 

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 
 

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rerun

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The smell of the freshly lit campfire,

the firework sound of the crackling cedar,

sadly muffled and shadowed by talking

from this sideshow circus’ ringleader.

Rehashing conversations from the past

always starts with a “Hey, remember when?”

Yes. Just like we did last time you were drunk

please, why must I have to relive this again?

I’m practically forced to crack a stupid grin

acting like I’ve never heard this version before,

why don’t you just write it into a book bro

and we can call it “Distorted Tales -N- Folklore”

Shall we try and mix this game up a bit?

Give this tired ole story a break for a while,

let’s create and imagine a bogus fantasy world

as phony as yours, yet sculpted with artistic style.

Dude, I hate to sound like a buzzkill party pooper,

but we’ve heard this more than our ears can allow,

it was not that cool back when it actually happened

or we would be doing the same damn thing right now.

 

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 
20 Comments

Posted by on March 28, 2018 in poetry, Uncategorized, writing

 

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home is where i am gay

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Sometimes, I feel as if I can take over the world!

Other times I just want to dig a hole and hide from it,

I’ll occasionally talk to everyone and befriend anyone around

but it’s only fraudulent, because I know I don’t fit.

I have always felt sorta strange like I’m not from here,

being around people tends to make me uncomfortable,

when trying to relate and get along with my peers,

I tend to overtalk with babble, which makes me vulnerable.

Anxiety starts to trickle in starting in my fingertips and toes

all of this is internal so you wouldn’t even know,

then the shaking and the sweating come like a whirlwind,

now you notice something is wrong as it begins to show.

I am not really eager to talk about this with anyone,

these feelings come and go as they flip-flop rapidly,

in a single instance, I can appear well put together

then in the drop of a hat, I will begin to act irrationally.

I struggle most days to make my way out the front door

and the untrained will tell me I’m just having a bad day,

you don’t know what it’s like for me as I start to panic,

being back home is where I feel most comfortable and gay.

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

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Rooms 12 and 13

Straight black hair with uneven self-cut bangs

large red-rimmed glasses too big for your face,

red lipstick a shade lighter, painted high on your lip

dark pink scars on your wrist, elegantly wrapped in lace.

Visible circles around your eyes show signs of stress

many nights you stay up crying, hardly ever sleep,

desperately praying for it to all be over, in exchange

the lord may take away and have your soul to keep.

Is it a cry for help because of your failure to succeed?

Or are you just trying it on, to see if it fits you well?

I personally understand as I have been there before,

after anonymously giving a false name at a roadside motel.

I laid in a tub, knife in hand unknowing of these feelings,

in the adjacent room you sit crying, I now wish I knew,

I could have invited you over to have a drink with me,

together we could have helped the other, follow through.

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© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 

 

 
 

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I can’t do this alone

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Heck, for all the times, that my two eyes,

had rolled into the back of my head,

you’d think I’d see my thoughts pacing,

or the addictive mind that wanted me dead.

For all the times that I had thrown it all up

the poisonous contents inside of my gut,

I”d maybe see what has been eating inside,

and make it all seem a little more clear-cut.

What’s this crawling feeling under my skin?

I wish I could slice at it, to make it bleed out,

but the last thing I need is someone asking me,

“what’s wrong?” , now that, I can do without.

The angels wouldn’t even try to enter my soul,

they claimed they had taken the wrong turn,

they just knew if they tried to enter my aura,

like entering earth’s atmosphere, they’d burn.

So I am left all alone to battle these demons,

maybe I’ll just ask politely if we can coexist,

I humbly admit…

I can’t do without help, that I require from family,

my friends, or in this case I guess, an exorcist.

 

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 

 

 
 

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Who wore it better?

A small, gram bag of clarity

I had purchased from a stranger,

gambled on her claim of its purity

a clear and present danger.

A time in my life, I still wouldn’t regret

during which many brain cells were destroyed,

a time of learning and hard taught lessons

I have now rendered, null and void.

Feeling so cloudy I felt the need to use

a substance to unclutter all the shit,

nothing that I’d like to boast about

the amount, I would plainly not admit.

Please, don’t get all righteous on me

and act like you’re any better than I,

for it’s no different than a lonely housewife

chugging a glass, then a bottle of wine!

At least I never got married with children

performing a phony financial and social status,

and I’ll never feel that gut-wrenching guilt

from, drunk-driving my kids to soccer practice.

Same as clean cut, class mom, “Little Suzy”

popping “mothers little helper” on the side,

she can still look all prim and proper, yet

I’m the “junky” because mine was not prescribed?

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© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 

 

 

 
25 Comments

Posted by on March 25, 2018 in poetry, Uncategorized, writing

 

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