Anything I think about
I can write about

Any dream or voice I have thought of having
and crumbling that may occur
will occur
and my decency will become tender
a mere exchange
a process or brainy quote
deep in side there is a person
a human
i have feelings.

I have fear of running with a thought
or idea
i doubt my strength
my intention
so I imitate I mock
I critisize
is inspiration meant for me?
Can I really create something
what makes me different and unique
masking and folding and hiding
but when I shine. I shine.

is my bravery, stupidity?
is my honor, naivety?
is my agitation, mania?
Is my vocation, a mere shadow of me
who is my true self?
where do I sit., if I found them
would it be them?
would i create a plot again and again
could I see it?
do I have feelings? are theyreal?
do I see it?
the difference between brink
and near sighted stability?
am I sane?
if you dont know what I have, Do I have time to change your mind?
how many times should i listen to people who have it wrong
how many times can I say words that blaze firecrackers and dissolve me
will the heart of me just stop pumping?
will all of this picture build up or fade away?
will this pain keep in me, or will i be compliant?
too many times I question whether that familar anger will stay, what will become of my thoughts if they are not full of wit or sass, what would I offer? I have again failed to speak my mind
as I get bigger they call me crazy
they say im close
but they dont realize that desperation motivates
those boxed in have to be reboxed and the longer they run rampant
the higher they have to stack that box and they dont like that
they have to listen to the boxes closest to the top
because if the stack at the bottom isnt big enough there is no room for the higher boxes to sit. no one wants to be on the ground running, its too much work, to displaced.its comfortable to tell someone about their life in an unaccepting manner. hatred has a cruel and obedient spine.
after all look at how close compliant is to the word complaint.
even these documents are written over white.

I will keep that butt slucky attitude if I want
I dread the day
I will drop to my knees
and say
I give this fury a name
a voice in my brain
tells me
who this is
that is speaking
to me
how a mere picture
can engage a thought process
like a wavelength sent from space
the meere intention of thinking like that person
explodes ideas
of not mine
and helps me graze the sweet sweet grass.

cream pie jesse
stares at my folds
disgusting origami
collecting the blows
kick my ass
find a hole and grunt
it doesnt matter
i dont have a cunt

if from determined simplistic
id like to say so
from a far view
relationships grow
though it cant matter
i just dont know
the relative lands
deep in the snow