Very Bad Archive
Stains Upon My Fingertips
David Barger
I am enslaved to a poem,
Alienated to a heightened line,
Bound within a single word.
What can be done?
Is there a cure for such disease?
Or is the remedy found
By continuing the struggle?
It cannot be helped though
For the very life of each poem
Runs through my veins.
If left unwritten
The blood may indeed turn on me
Becoming stagnated
Building in layered impurities.
There is no other way
Around this issue
None tied, broken, or disabled.
I must write.
Fingers quiver with excitement
Wanting to let all wrath,
Pollution, and vile internal letters
Merge with one another
Increasing the binds which form
These insatiable longings to grow
In such mass and hysteria.
I must write.
My mind trembles with aggravation
Hoping for the perfect ending to call out
From each known beginnings.
Where does it hide?
Playing guessing games
With my inner child,
The one who is bullheaded,
Stubborn, and unwilling to give in.
Let the torture stop!
Leave me some sane thoughts
To crawl safely in my own dwellings.
No!
It cannot be helped
As any wandering thoughts become
Subdued to subtle twists
Ongoing hinting at further kinks,
And then they begin to enjoy this slaughter.
Laughter is inevitable,
And what can I do but join in?
It seemed harmless enough,
But each line turns about slowly
Forcing me to change angles
Looking from awkward positions
Studying each experiment
In a different point of view.
The pressure seeps blindly
Dabbled onto helpless keys,
Yet I must continue to pound them.
It is the only way…
Maybe there is another,
But no
There can’t be.
This must happen.
Yes!
Let the jolted words pour quickly
Mounting stains upon my fingertips.
Keep them coming
Tossing each into the blue fires
Where I hear no struggles
Being waged,
And the poem is freed.
My blood is stirring again
Without any hesitation
Congregating another mob
Tugging at each vein
Kicking freely at stranded thoughts.
Is there no cure?
I am enslaved to begin again
With the start of one letter
Gluing it to others
Placing a word in brick formation
Layering another sentence
Formatting a habitual poem
That never leaves my mind,
But is reincarnated again,
and again,
and again.
I have no other choice,
I must write.
David Barger has published since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of David's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of David's latest works: