Constellations of Constant Hatred | Teen Ink

Constellations of Constant Hatred

February 28, 2017
By RochelleR. GOLD, Baltimore, Maryland
RochelleR. GOLD, Baltimore, Maryland
19 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I’m suffocating
From the stuff I’m hating
With no luck or patience

I fumble graces
Too stuck to embrace them
Clumsily. It was wrong of me
When for granted, each one was taken 

Now I’m stuck in places
Where no one can save me
I come undone
I can’t sustain this
As life’s laws engulf all that’s known
And cannot tame disgruntled nations

See, I’ve been snuffed of ways in
With such a lovely fragrance
Yet my hopes of love, live under basements
Never allowed to come of ages

Plagued with understatements
As my days crave summer radiance
Where I was once elated
But now the sun sits waiting
Until all the rage comes to an ending

My thoughts have been baited
By the ideas of love you painted
So now forever, I abide inside
To live the life of shameful cavemen

Still I perform a rain dance
Hoping for help from God
Through all my gloat and praises

Instead I’m blown away
As thunder roars
and my crops go up in blazes

The threads of buttons bracing
When my torso and lungs are inflated
From the heads of hunted game
I’ve cut and hang
above a mounted gun
That lures subconscious gazes

Knuckles aching
When I’ve been punching pavement
Soon I’m struck,
with deep huffs and panting

As the blood escapes skin
From blue to red,
The oxygen induces color changing

Holding fingers
Two to head
Just to pretend
I could choose to end
that which truly, nothing remains

My trust is breaking
out of its own encrusted making
From scabs when it was bust with words made of clubs
The surface oozes with pus
infected from being cuffed with a rusted chaining

I’m contemplating
if I’m wrong for taking
As my common sense,
Tends to dissolve,
Degrading all I am
To something small
So I refrain from uncalled celebration

I long for days
Where I no longer say this
A brain that is calm of mayhem

But for now, I’m down
With thoughts so foul
Its made my heart complacent
So I lay across
Shaped like a cross
As they take chalk to trace me

With now proof on the ground
that to the T
there’s bound to be a grave dig

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