Wednesday, 18 April 2012


I hear the whistling and know it’s ready
I pour the water into my favorite mug—the one that says 'another cup of weed please'
Dip in two bags of caffeinated tea and watch the effects
The color slowly changes in beautiful swirls with each dip
The longer I go through this process the strength of the mix will increase
The darker the water signifies more flavor and as I smell the aroma of this wonderful infusion I know that something divine has been created
This teabag, this tea, this entire operation reminds me of life—more accurately myself

I go through life mad at the downs
Having hallucinations of being attacked, possessed by satan—singing gospel tunes to keep him at bay and extinguish the room’s rising heat
I fight against visions of murder and the joy I would feel looking at the pools of blood beneath my bare feet—how the blood would electrify through my soles and breathe in me like life
I think about how I’m almost at my prime with no children, no education… nothing to show for myself except the dreams lost, hopes shattered and the rubble left behind in their wake
How I am stuck in a maze clouded by my hate of who I am, the dislike of my lot in life, and the struggles only I seem to have
Going through this thought process makes me angry and takes me further into my depressed world
A realm where spontaneous crying will make me certifiable
Where my cheery disposition is only a form of hiding—hiding from the world I don’t wish to be in
I’m suicidal not in denial—just pretending to be because aren’t you supposed to deny when you’re crazy

Why am I inflicted with nightmares of the violating kind—both physical and of the mind
Nightmares of being chased by enemies out of sight but never out of mind
I look in the mirror and I’m repelled by me
During self-analysis I’m repulsed by me
If I had the nerve to kill myself Id try but I’m too crazy 
Too paranoid to follow through with my mind
I flit in from mass murder to suicide in incoherent verse and hope that the poetic minds will read between the lines and make my lines rhyme
But I can’t deny the fear that rises each time I write and hope that my lack of confidence will be overrun by subliminal genius
And now comes the time to bring this back to the steeping of tea that is me

After all that’s been said now it must reconnect to the beauty of the infusion carefully at the beginning explained
My turmoil is the hot water, me the bag, and the entire process is life
On first glance I’m just leaves trapped in a bag but on second I am the seeds of creation
I can only become beautiful once put through the hot water
The more I’m tested the better the flavor and I will become stronger
It’s clear that my trials are designed to make me grow

So as life steeps me and I swirl through its hot water of tribulation, I should be thrilled with the revelation that I am a teabag
Beautiful and unique
That my qualities will be released with the trials the universe sets me and I will be a better creation
But soon all the bags flavor will be sucked out as the stirring spoon presses it against the side of the mug—another cup of weed please
The bag will be thrown away and the mixture will be drunk
Or maybe it will be left to steep a little while longer, the heat subsided, the mixture chilled to become cold as ice
Either way all my turmoil will be digested, grown inside and a new depressed me begun

A normal person will look at their bag and see the necessity of being steeped
But in the end more bags will be created
Each bringing forth the beginning of soon to be saturated torment
Yes a normal person would see, but normal I’ve never claimed to be
I’d rather be destroyed than steeped


  1. "Having hallucinations of being attacked, possessed by satan—singing gospel tunes to keep him at bay and extinguish the room’s rising heat"

    This is raw sincerity right here!

    1. Yup.... I try... sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't there's a fine line between things that actually happen to me and what I just feel. This well I was watching, karen Clark-Sherad give a testimony and she used tea and the hot water being the trials and then coming out as something wonderful in the end and so on and so forth. This was what came out of that.