Haven’t done this in a while

After writing this I feel like I can almost complete my secret identity as an angry and rebellious 16-year-old boy. Soon I’ll be able to start my own grunge band and write songs full of meaningful social commentary about how the world is Not A Nice Place, You Know?

———————-

The pulse rises, sickly loud
And pushes blood and bile moreso today
Than any kind of music like it should

It wracks the brain
It bites and screams
And moans and shakes
And hacks and coughs
And spits and growls
Hackles raised.

It sits and sinks
And melts and bleeds.
It sniffs and breathes
And sighs relief
But not release.

A wound heals before your know it,
But the scars fade all too slow.
And on those days when the pulse rises,
It beats and bleats and fills the skin.
The old scars burn. The heat will fade
To a cold throbbing, worming, sobbing,
Sopping up what’s left.

There’s a wry disregard
And a mutter and snort
Sometimes knowing nodding
Sometimes pretending not to know

Then it stands and walks
And smiles and talks
Cool and metered
Brighter, sweeter.

In the faces scattered,
To know which are disguises
Or transient phases:
It doesn’t matter
When the pulse rises.

———————-

Though I’m actually pretty happy with how this turned out. I think I write a decent poem about once every 2-3 years.