New Piece Offerings #2: Prodigal Sun

I once had what I thought was love. It was more of an infatuation, an obsession with the idea of love, than actual attraction to a person. But it blinded me all the same. I ignored her faults, and even thought some of them were endearing for awhile. But some combination of waiting too long and not being aware of the completely one-sided nature of our non-relationship (or that she already had two sides with someone else) led to drama that I spent several years trying to get over. In an effort to do so, I took the wise words of several of my favorite musicians, a few mythology references, and my own creative spirit, and came up with the following, originally titled "Prodigal Sun":

"How I Learned to Stop Loving and Live the Day"

Like the Prodigal Sun, I rise every mornin'

Sailors take warnin'

Cuz red skies are formin'

In my head Like A Storm, an'

The way you hate

makes my heart warm, an'

I try to reform, but

I'm sick

I live in dread of the fix.

I give,

Grateful and Dead,

A gentleman and a prick

with no Stones. They Roll

from Helter to Skelter

like dung Beatles,

All I Need Is Love but still

You Gimme No Shelter.

I'm Sysiphus on the hill

in Tartarus where I swelter.

You Give Me Fever,

heart-melter.

Soul-stealer,

make me Jealous.

Nothing-feeler,

I feel hellish.

Words awkward and embellished,

second-guessed by the second

every second I tell it,

'til I say "to Hell with it!"

I feel like shit;

can you smell it?

My headspace is a shake-up

from heartspace you take up.

Love never took place there,

so I can't call it a breakup.

I think about your face,

and it makes me hate love.

I wanna throw up,

I've Got A Disease.

Prelude to a blow-up?

Bitch, please.

All you have is a boomerang

I don't need to receive,

so change the breeze.

Hate, Fuck Off

with the greatest of ease.

Sadness, Zig-Zag from the Tops

of my eyes, dissipate and freeze.

Gladness, a dead memory,

shot and burned on the seas.

In a Viking pyre,

my mind flees

from the day I don't seize,

and I get on my knees

cuz you're a pedestal

that I put on a shelf.

My head is ill;

you're bad for my health.

I've had my fill

of doing this to myself.

These rhymes are a quick fix,

just bandages and makeup.

This dawn is a new day;

maybe I should just wake up.

          -Sean Wilkinson

                                  (because that's my real name)

Next time on New Piece Offerings (henceforth to be abbreviated as NPO in future posts), I will share two more raps/poems/whatever you want to call them, that I wrote--and stupidly posted on Facebook for all the drama-loving world to see--during a "rough spot" in our "relationship."

Poetrymaster,
out.