It’s insane
the juggle of jargons
the manic grammar & punctuation
because modern day poetry
is all about aesthetics and grunge-ness
the crazy choices of words from
the dictionary that angsty 14-year-old
teenagers would use to “express themselves”
but here i am,
still writing,
it’s addictive.
It’s self-escapism through metaphors.
a damsel in distress,
(sigh, always playing victim)
“the world stops for a while”
when it keeps on moving while i prefer
to be trapped in this non-existent time machine
it’s wishing upon a dry well,
all the fantasies that you won’t get.
but still,
it is comforting.
it does not hug you
nor wipe your tears that fell
on the paper
but it lets you escape into
that insane world whenever you
revisit the page
hallucinating, if you ask me
but at least i know there
is another world that i’m safe to be in.
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