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Proseful Poetics – A deep, dark place on Friday night March 12, 2005

Posted by Matt Hurst in Uncategorized.
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I was hiding in the corner of a diner (social climbing)
when I fell into a hole of self-loathing, just as well
because I didn’t have any plans and this struggle gives
me a chance to strangle and explore this hole’s angles.

I’m complicit in the covered combat of inner conflict
and it’s constricting my public personality until I possibly
can’t complains in caution about emotional exhaustion
because I’ve already collapsed and this poem is just relapse.
I’m so afraid to fail that my frail frame won’t ask
the questions leading to actions by asking for answers till retraction
of myself in abstraction answering these anomalies as I please
because reality of this solicitous situation sounds of reconciliation.

Scar tissue no longer issues intrinsic interest in the mongrel
self-image of rape and pillage prying precious values from the village
that it took to raise me thinking that if I was crazy
I might have deceased from diseased dissipating dead trees.
Because I don’t deserve any presents from the peasants perturbed
at me for not being the epitome of everything everyone expected of me
and my own lowered expectations already sunk in the aforementioned corner
as I escape in the existential form of a metaphor to make order.

This leaves me, the living, looking longingly like everything
I claim to self-righteously reject, ruefully resent in recent
conversations collapsing by closed compositions self-imposed
on me as I wrongly blame the world for my deficiencies.
I am useless, as I usually upset unsuspecting probably
innocents caught in the crossfire causing caustic undesired
implications of my own self-absorbed creations coming from
and overactive, oversaturated, overarching, over easy imagination;

and the problem is
I really believe this.

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Comments»

1. nilsinedeo - March 14, 2005

*hugs*

I don’t really know what to say. I’m not really good at understanding things that aren’t laid out in layman’s terms, and I’m afraid this is one of those things.

Feel better.

2. lostininerspace - March 14, 2005

I like where your writing is going, what you are exploring and how you have chosen to express it. I’m sorry it all has to come from experience, but you know it will all end up ok.
I miss you
Jess

3. eazymeat6969 - March 16, 2005

no good, friend, no good.

hmm.

and i feel we should meet up at TJs more often.

4. skewgee - March 16, 2005

i mean, have you read my blog lately…shessh

5. skewgee - March 16, 2005

again, as our conversation went, i have no idea about this evolution i might persue…any more suggested reading before you fly out phoenix?

6. skewgee - March 16, 2005

i wrote this crap at TJ’s for christ’s sake.
why can’t a boy be manic anymore? it’s getting too damn risky posting where an entire three people can read your work these days…can’t wait until this blog gets published!

7. skewgee - March 16, 2005

i mean what about this post warrants comments when compared to something we all can relate to? “the grind” may be rhyming, but it still is potent and lively in social debate, yo.

8. eazymeat6969 - March 16, 2005

i’m sorry. A) i could comment on the other poem, and B) i sort of assumed it was at TJ’s (because really…where else could it be?), and maybe next time i can hang with you, be annoying, make funny faces, etc., and stand in the way of superfluous dark thoughts.

9. skewgee - March 17, 2005

on a night like this, with an early start to st patty’s (aka a night with a psuedo legitimate excuse to drink anyway) –
that sounds pretty nice


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