All My Parts

So this one happened quite a few years ago when I was going through a really rough patch of doubt and self examination. It took a while but basically I lightened up and stopped feeling sorry for myself. When I look at these words now I can't help but laugh at the vanity of them - even so, I think it is quite good - it served a purpose. As it describes where I was at, we all go through these things. And there really is no point in scolding oneself for it. If people didn't feel bad once in a while there wouldn't be any poetry out there.

Even so, if you're like me, a white guy in a developed country, with decent people around you and with a decent social security net. You probably don't have much real shit to QQ about. Lost loves? Feeling lonely? Most people in the world are worse off, try dealing with some Darfur-grade shit for a while and then write some poetry, chump.

On that note: please read this book What is the What by Dave Eggers. A total eye opener, a must read if you feel like being humbled in your cushioned existence.


All my Parts

I want to be seated in the darkest of corners
I want to barely perceive your cold fingers
pricking my skin like a water from a country of dusk

I will turn inside
and tear at myself, and rip my skin,
I will grow silent, and slowly separate
all my parts