Impromptu Poem 15/04/2016

The world lies.

I should know.

I live there.

where my consciousness is conformed by

embellished ideas like tumors feed upon

origins and truth but

grow into  aliens.

Such is the modern construct of a modern consciousness.

 

I sink even more into its treacherous waters

by each passing moment.

I sit in my cherished chair.

I reach for the illusion of networks and human connection

as I deny my reality one click at a time.

 

I forget myself and everything around but

I still eat.

An involuntary indulgence in systematic sustenance and

cerebral devotion to the world of hazy hopes and

mythical pleasures.

 

I stroll the streets

Jazz in my ears, shutting every other sound.

I’m an alien walking

among humanoid silhouettes.

I exchange monotonic greetings

and the occasional signs of insecurity.

 

It’s a struggle for identity,

a war.

I just lost.

The world looted me.

It left nothing in me but these broken words

with which I strive to build into poetry,

ugly and bleak,

trying so hard to be beautiful

but the scar is too deep and

the chasm between me and my true self

is widening even more.

 

15/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Author’s Notes:

Impromptu piece. unedited. 

• for future instances, every poem I label ‘Impromptu’ it means it is unedited and that it came to me in a stream-of-consciousness sort of way. These type of writes, despite being of less poetic quality compared to the ones I spend hours and days writing, have a special place in my heart because I believe there is something really strong in them to push them out in such a manner. So I choose not to make them better by editing them. I consider them a reflection of my true self, if you will. 

 

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