High Fidelity

Been questioning my love life lately so after watching High Fidelity (which this poem is loosely based on), I decided to write this, hence the title. I haven't done poetry in a while so it felt good getting back into it. After feeling miserable for a good chunk of the day, I felt like a weight has been lifted. The power of writing.

I’ve got a lot on my mind with nothing to say, nothing to say with a lot on my mind

Lost & I find that my thoughts enter lines with the cost of sinner’s lives

Hearing shots as thunder cries taking cover under lies in a heart that’s undersized

Lost in my mind as the thoughts go inside as they coincide with the ghost who will hide

Who’ll hide in the deepest recesses of my mind’s corridor where the chorus roars

The soundtrack of an open sore where the cold is warm & of course it pours

Damn, I think I’m scarin’ me, man I need some therapy apparently

My pair of knees buckles ‘cause I’m a parody of what a parrot sees

Before it speaks ‘cause Polly wanna cracker for every one of his bad choices

And finally, when my therapist asks me if I hear any vast voices?

I’ll say “Yes, I hear two, ones my conscience telling me how big of an ***hole I am

The other is God but we haven’t spoken ever since he blocked me on his IM”

And so I see the world through rainy glasses as your knight in shining armor

Till I rust & I’m finding ardor has been crying harder in a violet harbor

Letting violence harm her, wondering why she couldn’t possibly love me

So I surround myself with pretty monsters ‘cause monsters don’t have to be ugly

I’m out of breath tired of being your running joke so lately my art has been hollow & dark

Walking to the heart beat of my own drum, so every step I take I’m following my heart

But when in Rome, build it in a day in a state of winter aches as you feel the breaks

Of your heart that can never be mended by your inner saints and it stains

It stains your hands & that’s why I choose hide my insecurity behind my wit

Were I find my gifts lie in between my pines & miffs & kindness gets

The backseat in a car that’s carting the scars that’s scarring carved in gardens

And every tree in a forest where we’re forced to watch as they marred our martyrs

But if she’s happy then who am I to come in between that actually?

But the Greek word “agon” means to compete which is why I’m in agony

‘Cause she chose him over me & I guess it’s over see, blaming God ‘cause he oversees

Feeling my heart sink like an illegal immigrant forced back over seas

And I’ll finally secretly admit to myself that what was will never be

Pain’s famous recipe ‘cause what has become, is nothing but a memory

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