Organs Bereft of Adequate Nourishment...


Counterfeit consequences of "comical" 'capades,

Brain's automatic switch to "courtesy" on my face,

Eye contact and generous nods

Belie the underlying thoughts.

Within; I spin,

For the shock of the emotions I actu'lly feel

(Is apparent from my posture and 'stant scowls); "Evil"

Comes to mind,

Lives in mine...

Alone, unengaged, I am Me.

In the presence of company?

Veneer is injected into my lips and the throat.

"Carefree, careful, careless," in my eyes, is clearly show'.


Despite how genuine I (try to) B

None seem to appreciate me, U C?

Not that they should, there’s nothing special

About I; Aye, why try when baleful

Is the only thing to succeed at;

All of the others insist to prat-

-tle on, spitting empty words;

I expose(,) strictly, in verse.


Why should I try? This world is not the one for me

Though I try (to try), I just fail miserably.

Decide to give up – futility IS, Mick;

More apathetic if not so lethargic.

Could(n’t) care less, if I cared at all;

Sure, I made myself this way – to bawl

Solves nothing; temper myself in what’s now coals.

Passion to feel nothing dulled me; when I’m old,


I’ll surely regret this wasted life but

Nothing but nothing in company;

Loneliness is the only kind'a –

Lack of fellowship is to be free…

(To do naught-

A “robot.”)

(Though to be with the crowd

Is not much more profound.)


No need for a mask, really; seclusion

Is more effective it seems; contusion-

Malignant - manifested at first heart-break;

Asymmetrical sternum: nothing but pain.

“Grew too fast” – my only source of pride is bane.

I cannot ever socialize proper; make

The sincere sloth to go away

No urge to live; the next to-day

(As time has no bearing

In this, my room, very

Much my world, noise blaring

In these, my ears, vary:

Lively cacophony;

Depressing and heavy)

Brings more of the same

Try to begin pray-

-er; though the handicapped heart swells -

Air stifles, victim of my(-)selve’s –


To be sure, I think not myself “evil” –

A gentle giant, I's dubbed by people.

The apparent, unconscious self

Is not I, who, within, do dwell…

At least, as I know me -

Ignorance of you; be

Lost in knowing us,

Then they cannot. Mus-


-ter the gusto to make sense of rambling;

“To understand him, you have to become him.”   //

How-for-to to do this when that face behind the cage

Is that blank void we all seek to escape   //   in socializing, but

Beware that ‘thin us all is that same creeping thing, not inescapable,   //

Indeed, a threat – Honesty is necessary, though an incredibly volatile   //   force.

Exploiting Man’s tenuous perception; That (")Man(") Behind The Curtain… a god, as well as a devil.



I submitted the first stanza as a homework assignment in High School and I drew the accompanying illustration in that same class (originally independently of each other); "Warped Port(ra(I)t)."

Formatting (i.e. italics) did not take effect (am using Chrome).

I hope I tagged the poem correctly for the Slam Behind the Curtain Scholarship.

Thanks for reading.

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