Tangible

I want to feel tangible-
in a tangle of hands and feet
and mouths,
but reality feels like taking another bitch slap
to my brain.
When will I learn from my mistakes
and rise from the swamp of self-pity
I greedily indulge in.
I want everything to disappear underneath my feet so
I can fly-
fly off the swing, the Ferris wheel, my rooftop...anything.
I want to known for me
for me, for me.
And not for what I did to you.


Just venting some feelings out aka therapy poetry. Not saying that all therapy poetry is bad but it gets a bit too faded out and boring.

Anyway, enjoy if you can!

-Seras