Prena Poetry

i reek of self hatred

shower after shower.

month old laundries and

mocking cob webs.

gutting nausea with my head

inside the television set

half a can of beer

rotting away in the fridge

for i bought a new one

it still tastes the same

but it makes me feel like

i am less sick

now i reek of alcohol and disgrace

but it’s a soft Tuesday night today

maybe tomorrow

would be the end of the world.

and i will not have crawl back

to a life out of my own mind.

half way home on a metro ride

brushing fingers against strangers.

speeding away from upsetting city lights

i see a reflection on the window

shamble of a woman

reeking of underground bistro, cigarette ends and heated electronic hardwares.

but then that’s not what

the smiling man

in the metro seat sees.

for him,

i am perfect to somesome, somewhere.

i am that lady in a silk and shrewdness.

for him,

i am the charisma people yearn to be

and bleed out their eyes for the blessing.

oh darling, little does he know

i die in that mattress every morning

addicted to a future i cannot have.

i am reeking of self hatred

and he finds me beautiful.

i wish he at least knew

there’s no sequel to this story

he’s just a man in the metro

and i am just something

who will perish to nothing—one day