Hour Eight

Write a poem with the phrase “we need” reoccurring throughout it. Repeat the phrase at least five times in the poem.
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We want the things we can’t have. We want the illusion of happiness
painted in tabloids, pop music, and reality tv. We want to know
that love is real—trying to grab air with bare hands. We want to
be in control. We want our bodies to look like those photo-shopped
Barbies and Kens that are constantly bombarding our self-respect.
We want to live on through eternity in a fantastical paradise where
everything we couldn’t acquire in life is bestowed upon us in death.
We need. That is the nature of man—to need.
We consume and abuse the elements around us.
We need to feel to be real. Zombie minded dullards,
they can get by tasting less than Love, less than True
Life, less than Will. We need words that make an impact
like a sawed-off shotgun—we need to blow the minds
of all the “sames” who creep around in the night of day
looking for more to eat, use, and rob. We need fantasy,
we need reality, we need to dream to be alive.. Can you recall
the darkness when you looked in the mirror? That black
pit in the center of your eye? I saw the nothingness there.

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