"I, Anonymous" Poem
We present our ONLY anonymous writer. They do not want to reveal who they are… yet! We can definitely say they are a Lubbock Local writer. Here is their first poem titled, “I, Anonymous”
Acting as a kicking hallucinogen
Within arm’s reach
At the verge of possibility,
Happiness is unattainable.
Just inject me with morphine,
So I can be high
While I am low
Flying under the radar.
A smile cracking
Across my blood-spattered cheeks,
A temporary suicide
Followed by resuscitation,
My ghost awaits abduction
Dancing with the flies
Over a pile of shit.
But sometimes
The needle breaks
Against my crocodile skin.
Your persuasion fools me
Into believing emptiness
Pilots my being,
Nothingness disclosed
Once I am torn apart.
Self-mutilation for deep splinters
Poking me amid
A high fever melting
The shallow soiled snow,
I am a droplet that leaks
Past the sealed faucet,
A pill bug who
Crawls, cringes, curls up
Hiding from the pain
Of tragic romance masochism,
Outliving death disguised as
A giant dehydrating love.
Peel off my entire face flesh
To reveal the mortal
Anorexic potential,
So I can look happy eternally.
Yet, even a bare skull
With a naked grin
Cannot fake the misery
That lies beneath.
A requisite to stumble around
With poisonous blood
To convey the clotted truth
And feel like men,
Mapping out the visions
Of imaginable futures
Inside confined craniums
Above exploding hearts
And throbbing feet
Through alcoholic apologies.
Inventors do not receive
Enough sunshine;
They are not supposed to.
In perfect paradise,
I forget to breathe,
To live life on pause
When the beach spills out
A broken hourglass
Which becomes quicksand
That proceeds to
Engulf my existence
I cannot escape
As much as I try,
Like caught in a riptide
Where swimming
Nowhere
Drowns you.
The art expressed
Is the artist repressed,
Another weary overlooked creator
Begging for forgiveness
Of sooner unexpected behaviors.
I accept the neglect overtime;
Then again, it is better
If there is remembrance.
Simply do me one favor:
Do not obliterate my work;
Let it mean something forever.
The kingdom gates are closed,
And there is no place
Left for me
But the unknown
I, anonymous,
Am familiar with
By now.