Tomb of the Killed Darlings
12 a.m. espresso,
like a candle at both ends,
wide eyes starting down the barrel
of a Microsoft Word count,
hunting for just one more fucking line!
slam table, angry stare,
breathe, meditate, composure…
Suddenly, your caffeinated heart skips a beat,
your unblinking eyes shed a tear,
basking in the blue light of your finished product,
praising the weekend gods,
finally you’re fucking finished!
You’ve found the perfect specimen!
If this nightmare sounds familiar
it means you’re probably one of three things,
or a lonely person on Tinder!
I embody two of these qualities,
and which two you picked
how much of a judgemental asshole you are!
But welcome to how I write poetry!
Welcome to how I write poetry.
Where my vampiric nature and I
pour my disjointed soul
and fractured thoughts
into lyrical manifestos
manifested in the form of
late night blurbs.
Be it whimsy, whine, or murderous rage,
this is the time of my unfiltered conscience;
my skeleton of thought in all its passions,
loose tongues, and grievances,
flowing into form.
One that must absorb a heart to beat,
blood to flow, skin to wear,
and a personality to hide under!
If it wants to see the light of day,
it must bear more than bones!
But why? I ask,
I’m not good at expressing emotions.
Now all of it,
this unfiltered midnight honesty
must go to die
in the tomb of the killed darlings.
‘This emotion is too vulnerable,
this expression too insensitive’,
no wonder everyone keeps swiping left
on my profile!
I must edit my marrow
for the sake of public opinion!
Delete, delete, cut, copy, paste;
oh… windows isn’t responding, well fuck…
Abandon your poetic songs,
and bury it here,
embalm it for future generations!
Fertilize it with bullshit,
sugar-coating and foundation,
‘til it grows into something new,
more presentable, and easier to express!
Take this tomb,
fill it with the real you,
line these catacombs with awkward smiles,
beliefs and secrets,
write them into your bones
and bury them,
far from the surface of reality!
I’ll put them farther underground
than the slam poetry scene!
Perhaps in three months, I’ll exhume my body,
prep it with some theatre,
sharp wit, and sex appeal,
until it’s ready for the stage!
In the meantime I’ll have to examine my bones,
hold my skull aloft, like Hamlet for revision;
and hope the discovery
of some genuine expression,
prevents a grave robbing,
here in the tomb of the killed darlings!
This is one of my favourite recently written pieces, a variant of one I often drag to the slam stage with me! Happy writing for NaPoWriMo day 8! How’s your work going so far this month? Check back tomorrow for new content! -MC