Inebriated Imposter

Cynical Wordsmith

The mind slows
And floats at the rim
Of an empty glass.
I love this feeling,
But I don’t need it.
It just makes me feel
Like my thoughts
Are average.
But the back of my mind
Knows the truth.
I am different.
I am unique.
And this self inflicted stupor
Is a macabre mask
Of normality.

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Cynical Wordsmith

There are times
I doubt myself.
Was that the right decision?
Did I consider the consequence?
I feel remorse.
I feel regret.
But the decisions are made
And I can’t seem to falter.
To doubt my decisions
Would invite doubt
Into myself
And all that I’ve done.
A brooding darkness
That lingers and asks,
“What if, kind sir?
What if?”
I’ve entertained them,
Oh yes,
But always seem to find
That certain solemn end.
This is my existence,
This is my reality.
And my doubts always come
Ten seconds too late.

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The Saddest Seas

Cynical Wordsmith

To those who suffer
From despressive states:
I know your base existence.
I share your mental predispositions.

It’s not a constant sadness,
At least not at first.
It’s a cancer,
A living, growing thing.
It feeds off of moments
And it’s not the host’s fault.
There are treatments,
Drugs, and therapy,
But there is no cure,
Just a gentle staving off.
You sail the seas of life,
With natural highs,
Natural lows,
And a plethora of whirlpools.
You start at the brim,
And the winds of fate
Gently push you
The downward spiral begins,
The light seems further away.
Hope slips
And the struggle intensifies.
With water on all sides
You forget how the surface appears,
And all you know
Is the darkest depths.

It will swallow you,
If you let it.
The sea will still flow
As if you never were.
But there is always hope,
Even with…

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Cynical Wordsmith

Often in a subtle
Or unexpected way.

The light flashed behind me,
And made your tears shine brighter.
They gently traced your cheeks,
As my fingers once did.
Standing here, like this,
Was never my intention.

We had stood in the ocean once,
On mountain peaks and roof tops,
On trolley cars and dance floors.
We had stood by an altar.
With the warmest embraces,
Through the darkest places,
We had stood; and
We stayed

But there had never been,
Nor ever again would be,
A storm on our horizon
Quite like this.
They said not to worry,
They said we were safe.

They lied.

I take you in my arms,
And hold you close to my heart.
An abrupt realization unsettles me.
This is the end of our time

The atomic blast
Washes over us,
And we face
This deleterious beast,

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