D. B. DEVILLIERS

Poetry

Month: February, 2020

All The Great Slot Cars Of History

though caesar is a tyrant he is likely
well-intentioned and by virtue of charisma or whatever we
want him to survive the
knives and every time we read it or see it you just
hope maybe a little that this time he
makes it but of course
it went the one way
and despite the brilliance of the orators they
all died bleeding too
and everyone was just doing the right thing of course
I’m sure he thought he was very important
I’m sure they all did
all the tiny little pawns of history
drunken poets and emperors of rome
it’s very easy to feel very
very small

I am a car in a slot
a child’s toy
in very good company.

This Is The Longest Sentence You’re Likely To Read Today/This Too Shall Pass (Away)

Here’s one I wrote a while back and didn’t put up because, well, just read it and you’ll see why. I guess it’s kind of sad.

If all we are is the sum of the choices we make
when the fuck did I ever choose this was it
last night this morning last year my next life past
life this very instant? I can’t remember am I always choosing this
I can’t remember anything my hands shake almost
too hard to even type this if only I could have a strong
drink or five right now it takes that many anymore to
stave it off I guess that might be one reason why I
feel like I’m dying all the time the choices we
make why do we make them and at this
fleeting waystop en route from oblivion to oblivion will I
spend myself hammered or shaking so hard I had to locktite the
screws in my head forgetting being as it happens
compulsively telling friends and strangers alike
I am insane
can you read it from my face you can can’t you can’t you
tell I’m paranoid about my own paranoia and the shame
I should feel ashamed of this right have I earned the
right to suffer from mental illness yet have I earned the
right to write about it I don’t know but my own better judgment
tells me to bury this shit hide it tell no one because most people
just can’t understand
and christ do I wish I didn’t
but I disregard my better judgment as always
I’ve got to write it, it’s a compulsion
thankfully it does make me feel better about it all
but isn’t it already readily transparent I feel like everyone can see it
feel like my pores excrete some sort of pheromone that signals to everyone in my
immediate vicinity: this guy’s unhappy
did I forget to take the shirt off this morning that reads hey everyone I’m batshit nuts
and I’ve never been so scared in my life except for every other waking moment of
a thing I can’t even name or see or even adequately describe the
aching void the dread the lack that zero absolute beyond reckoning
heat death of consciousness of the self final reversion to
entropy as precedes so must succeed the threshold
singularity black beyond black silent beyond silence the
fear the fear you can’t escape no one will ever escape you’re
making that choice you will always make that choice you
crazy son of a bitch what are you doing to yourself
deep breath fold down visor open mirror look at self
you are ok you are ok you are ok ok
repeat it out loud with conviction you
will survive this day or at least this minute or at least this
instant knock wood it’s all in my head that’s true but
wasn’t geometry all in Euclid’s head at
one point isn’t everything all in our heads well
that’s a little misguided and reductive don’t you
think but the dread sure as shit feels real
is there such a phobia as fear of self
I guess that’s called depression comorbid
generalized anxiety disorder
terms terms
anyway break’s over back to work keep it together.