I’m gonna be honest here:
I’m not a good poet cause my pen is possessed, my mind is a mess
I don’t have a rhythm and I don’t like to rhyme if it hinders my thoughts
I have a storm that makes me go in circles and trip
and sometimes the wind picks me up so I know
how it’s like to drift
even when I’m strapped with a seat belt in a car going straight.
I don’t like when words taste like metal
or when they sound like plastic
and for some reason I notice this more and more often…
It’s hard to see invisible words in the air.
I don’t mean to seem like I don’t see you either
cause everything’s a fast blur ’til I’m in my place
I apologize for each and every time you’re pushed away
by a gust of wind
The turbulence of bottling in,
trying to keep my lines even
But the thunder doesn’t roll, it explodes
and my pen seems to move on her own
But maybe that’s because I’m in denial.
I know my pen’s true self when it’s just the two of us
She’s the most insane and frightening I know
She rides with the clouds, no matter how dark
and doesn’t use proper grammar sometimes..
So I don’t always get what she says and why
Cause she carries a glass filled over the top,
can’t help but repeat herself to herself and would
write in all caps like a slop..
Well she can say a ton of words that are otherwise numb
And she can loudly scream without any sound
But whenever she stops and falters, I’d either hear the
buzzing of words getting tangled up
or the crushing vacuum of outer space
And I’d remember that me and my pen are just like the same
My reflection’s right here on the page…
And then I always have to clean up her mess so you can read it
And it does seem to take a while longer
But it’s disappointing how it’ll never turn out just the way I want it to be.
There’s still a million other words that you just cannot see…
I cannot put two different sentences on top of each other if they
don’t make sense anywhere else
And there are things that just don’t fit anywhere at all.
And I spend too much time trying to think of how to fill in the holes
so you don’t fall through
But I cannot fill in every one of them..
So I’d really love if I could just write out of the lines and
be able to see those invisible words in the air and
to never find myself saying anymore words that taste like metal
Especially during times like this where I’m terrified that you’d
miss something important
~ + ~