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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

My Twentieth Year - 12. tortured tolerance

Poem No. 30

 

I lie awake and spy

on visions of burnt dreams

flashing boldly in the empty sky

of my mind, bursting its seams…

 

To be anything less than a success

is to have failed totally;

not to go forward, but to regress

is to show your shame boastfully…

 

I've lost what I was going to say

but it doesn't matter, I'm sure,

for there'll be another day

of tortured tolerance with which to endure…

 

And I imagine I shall too.

 

 

Poem No. 31

 

I need a cure –

Does anyone know

The cure for self-contempt?

Copyright © 2017 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

  On 3/23/2016 at 6:09 PM, Puppilull said:

No 31 just gets me in complete hug mode... So sad to read. I wondered if the burnt dreams were your's or someone else's. At first I thought your dreams had shattered, but the tortured endurance points me in another direction. Family perhaps.

Expand  

Thanks, Puppilull. This is one of the few poems from this period that I actually remember writing. I was in bed, in my dorm room, alone and unable to sleep. I switched on my desk lamp and crawled back in bed to write this. I don't know why I remember this, but I do.

  On 3/23/2016 at 6:55 PM, skinnydragon said:

Both really unsettling, but I think because they cry out, reflecting incompleteness.

 

But then, I guess we all were at 20, right? ;)

Expand  

That's just what I was thinking this morning, skinny. I would not want to be 20 again, stuck between pressures and not knowing if I'd ever be happy, or be anything really.

 

Thanks for your comments.

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