The Bitter Aftertaste of Talking to Myself

If I were to meet myself
on this here night,
what would I say to me?
What name would I
address myself as
when words are
eventually exchanged?
Would I be glad
to meet the man I am
or would I pitifully sigh
with gusto great
and laugh at my inadequacy?

If I do not feel love
for myself now
I know I shall not tomorrow
when the chance encounter
does arrive, and perhaps
I will blow myself off
instead for a night
with a fine young lady.

My happiness does not
concern me, and it shall not
when I do arrive
for our interview together,
because meeting me
will bring great pains
from which no antidote
could be applied,
and that bandage shall not cover
the hindering hole
which ruptures
my heart of madness.

If only I could
intervene in my life
and bring about
peaceful mindedness,
for depression drips
across my forehead
and I will only
make it greater,
as I stand in the shadow
of my current self
and wonder where life
went hopelessly wrong.

I may shake my head
and not bother
with a response
for that train
already did depart,
and instead myself
will be ignored
and my definition of normality
shall be returned
when I eventually do disappear,
like I wish I could from me,
because I need a vacation
from being the man
inside this fleshy mannequin,
for if I am living
my so called life to its fullest,
another glass I certainly do not want.

I am not my hero,
nor will I ever be,
and when my voice
is but a whisper
in the gathering darkness of time,
perhaps I will soon
be put to peace
when life comes to its bitter,
inevitable end.

About totalovrdose

I am an online journalist, video game reviewer, mental health advocate and post graduate university student. I am a massive video gaming geek; a lover of intellectual conversations; an award winning procrastinator; a devilishly charming nuisance and the definition of 'fun' (sometimes). My blog is filled with many a soporific love poem, and is simply the beginning in my quest to become a published author. Please stop by and say 'Hi!' (that rhymes!) :D

Posted on September 19, 2013, in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.

  1. wonderful poem

  2. hey, nice job here, you! pain sounds so good on paper. but you know i’m rooting for you, right? i’ve given up on my bad poetry. haha now that’s funny. what is there to give up?

    • Thank you PM! Appreciate the comment, you’re a star! You’re rooting for me! Wow, thank you! That puts you in the lead to be the queen of my fan club – the only other contender is – the air!
      Really tough decision that will be…
      You gave up your bad poetry? Oh, why PM, why? Why I tell you, why? Why?

  3. God damn – you are quite a talented man.
    The two I chose to read ended in similar ways. The end of life. Death and it’s loving embrace -as we who suffer greatly day in and day out , tend to long for.

    • Thank you! Appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. I tend to sit on a fence between writing about love and mental illness, and in some cases one particular theme takes the lead. Thanks for following!

      • My pleasure. I appreciate poetry and also the topics you choose. Looking forward to reading more.

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