After an emotional day, a good friend of mine wrote this compelling poem:
i'm drowning in a pool of uncertainty.
i'm groping in the dark for something that isn't there.....the flashlight that isn't there.
how can this be done in the dark?
looking for the awakening that won't come, the emotion that fled, the misdirected attention, the wasted resiliency, the life with no direction.
trying to push away the strangling confusion, the inescapable judgement.
the senseless thoughts, the merciless claims, the arrogant geniuses, the omnipresent depression.
Electrifying, right? The feeling many young voices have--the confusion and darkness--is evident within these lines. I would love to do an artist profile, but he declined, stating:
The artist has politely declined Ariel's kind request for a profile in light of the mood of the piece. As incorrect first impressions may be drawn, further background information will not be provided.
I guess our mystery man isn't proud of this dark mood that often we as youth are drowned in. But it seems as if this is not the last time we wil hear from this underage voice!
this is where it starts- right before i think about getting out of bed- anxiety- with sylvia plath’s voice will start say...
Everyone has that one fact That no one really expects But once you hear it makes perfect sense For me, it’s that I don’t own a pair ...
To the people who ruined spoken word for me— Fuck you. Fuck your scream-cries, personas, the conversational beginning with splattered joke...