Coffee and TV (Blur, woo!)

Caffeine and nicotine, my life story?
Paranoia and insomnia, is that all there is?
My bones are aching, irritatingly
Itching scars, I won't scratch

Outside, my whole life is ahead of me
In my room, I'm going nowhere
Note to self: pens don't work upside down
Note to self: Wash your hair tomorrow

Repeating myself only annoys myself
Everything repeats itself here
The same nineties album played over and over
Till I get tired and turn on the TV

2am and nothing but rubbish is on
Signed repeats of the daytime shows I hate
Would pick up my guitar, pretend I can play
But the 'rents are asleep across the hall

A jingle on an ad strikes a chord
And my mind skips back to some guy
Beer bottle glinting in a single candle's light
Scraping the polish off my thumbnail

Used tea light as an ashtray on my belly
Adolescent, not-addicted-to fag in one hand
Patronising, despicable book in the other
Straining to read in the soft, soft lighting

Sick of it all, lights out, window shut
Should've shut it sooner, the room's so cold
Snuggled in covers I look around a childish room
Plastic mobile hanging off the light like a chandelier

Too much coffee to sleep, to sick to stay awake
I'll find somewhere horrible in between
Where I can dream without rest
Dream of things I want, only to wake up without them

Just like a stale nineties soup with a skin
With a dusty ghost of Kurdt Kobain
Could leave my empty room, get a life
But its too easy to stay here

i really enjoyed this poem. it was full of random and wonderfully described images and flashbacks...it was simply casual but it was true and i definitely know what it feels like to be in your situation...or, rather, the speaker's situation. the last line was very powerful - almost the feeling to stay in your comfort zone even though you don't want to, i suppose.

You have many strong images and very memorable lines. My favorites include:

” Note to self: pens don't work upside down
Note to self: Wash your hair tomorrow”

“Too much coffee to sleep, to sick to stay awake
I'll find somewhere horrible in between
Where I can dream without rest
Dream of things I want, only to wake up without them”

The first, for it’s cleverness; the second, for it’s insight.

A few things weakened your poem. Among them:

“Caffeine and nicotine, my life story?
Paranoia and insomnia, is that all there is?”

This made me expect another typical teen-angst poem. You poem is better than that, so raise my expectation in the opening lines.

“My bones are aching, irritatingly
Itching scars, I won't scratch”

Some more punctuation would make this more clear. As it, it looks like the bones and the scars are part of one thought, one sentence. I think you are saying “My bones are aching. I won’t scratch the irritatingly itching scars”.


”Just like a stale nineties soup with a skin
With a dusty ghost of Kurdt Kobain”

I’m not sure why you are so eager to date this poem. Also, how is soup “nineties”? And what is just like it? Your subjects and actions are all jumbled here.

I think you expressed yourself very well- your restlessness, your anxiety, your depression. I like.

Cheers.

Yeah, as soon as I wrote the first two lines I disliked them. And I'm a nineties soup with a skin coz Im just a rancid jumble of nineties'ness. And I just felt I wanted to date it.... But I guess it doesn't need that does it?

Or does it??

Someone tell me if I should keep the nineties or not!!

Is the patronising book that horrid one about the teenage pregnancy you had to read that I read too that's like eeeeeew and is all patronising and crappity?

*list rolls on into distance*

HELLO SOPHIE!