The Pressure of Procrastination by Enoch Thompson


My teeth sting in my face, the gums feel like they could bleed,
but I don’t brush them, no, why do such a simple thing,
it would be a waste of time.  Instead I loaf,
waiting for the brilliance that’s rightfully mine,
waiting for a smell of joy, a salty tear running down to my nostril,
waiting for love as obvious as the warm hour of day when I’m out in the sun.
Maybe I’ll discover a new color when it happens merely by chance,
but I wait for greatness.

I could never be content with just a toothbrush in my hand.
Let that invisible sting at the bottoms of my gums, deep in my veins,
turn into a green tinge of growth, climbing up, climbing out.
Let me cry out in pain and rage when I eat.
Then with a scalpel, with rough-studded tools,
let me slay that dragon, and I’ll smile easier.


Want to read more of Enoch’s poetry? Go here, here, and here.

2 thoughts on “The Pressure of Procrastination by Enoch Thompson”

  1. A good run of poetry, E. Especially, I like the wryness of this one.

    But every one of the poems we’ve run this week have been rough-studded with quality. :)

  2. I remember the first time that i read this poem. How it made me feel a strange sadness. I’m happy this is one of the poems chosen for this site. It’s beautiful. And perfect and i’m so happy that i’m not the only person that see’s the brilliance in. Not that it’s hard to see. <3 So damn proud of you Enoch

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