WHEN IT COMES FOR ME
a tasteless beauty yet alluring
lifeless creatures calling themselves beings
how horror would it be to be wiped off
our existence a lab test
a waste of creatives, waste of canvas
a false sense of reality
caged sperm for procreation
a die has been cast upon our soul
plot twist to affirm illusion
a fact so light yet most heavy
“be bold” I yell to my subconscious
“why are thou afraid oh my soul”
a little dose of serendipity isn’t enough
the oceans roars with pride and obeisance
yet my soul repels the miasma it emits
emptiness of humanity yet unalarming
a far cry for the correction of idiosyncrasies
spoon fed by fallacies and ballasts
empty space not worth adorn
daydreamers
and when death finally comes to find me
I hope it comes without fear
taking my hands like someone who already knows I’m tired and worn out
for I have waited years for the idiot
a spineless fool
knowing fully well the world is vague
@talk2leigh
(X & insta)
21 Sept 2026
5:20pm
This feels like a conversation between the soul and a world that has stopped making sense. There’s so much emptiness, illusion and disillusionment throughout the piece, but the ending changes everything—death is no longer imagined as something terrifying, but as something that might finally understand the exhaustion of the person waiting for it. “Taking my hands like someone who already knows I’m tired and worn out” is such a haunting image. It feels like the whole poem was slowly walking toward that final thought.
ReplyDeleteJoshstitches aka Josh