Tastes Like the World Don't Care

February 5, 2009
By Nathan Nesbitt BRONZE, Chandler, Arizona
Nathan Nesbitt BRONZE, Chandler, Arizona
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Hey kid, listen close I got somethin' good,
Bloodshot bleary eyes pierce the boy's weakness wise
For nothin', free hear? I'll give you some of this'
You know where I am.

Eyes squeezed shut, hear the sight,
Grits his teeth and presses tight,
And the plunger forces in,
A liquid shot of should have been.

In the gutter turnin' tricks - five a pop,
Jitterin eyes like a child's top,
Desperation tastes like the sickly sweat
On the grit-smeared forehead of the breathing dead.

So what's the price for a dime,
Of broken promise, liquid prime,
Not one penny, not a cent,
For the first - the soul's the rent.

Hear me clear and see me loud,
Message mine's not word, but feeling, endowed
With the pain of grandeur glimpsed,
Glory given, then dispensed.

So lick your lips and tell me this,
Does it taste like the world don't care?
Cause' happiness and hell entwine
If your vision tastes like air.

The author's comments:
I strongly believe that the only true purpose a person can hope to discern from life is that which they themselves create. This poem is my way of expressing my fear for those who live their lives waiting for some purpose to be magically created for them, and end up with nothing but emptiness. To me, wonderful things must be fought for, you have to believe in a thing for it to mean something. Ultimately, what I hope you take away from my work can be summarized by the words of Dylan Thomas, "Do not go gentle into that goodnight," there will always be meaning to your life if you will it to be so.

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