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Literature Text
I do not
think
in poems.
I dance in them.
I let them fill up
inside of me
until-
heart bursting
skin stretching
eyes watering
knees shaking
fingers reaching
stomach churning-
I let the words
agonizingly spill from
every pore
and clatter
onto the keyboard.
think
in poems.
I dance in them.
I let them fill up
inside of me
until-
heart bursting
skin stretching
eyes watering
knees shaking
fingers reaching
stomach churning-
I let the words
agonizingly spill from
every pore
and clatter
onto the keyboard.
Handcuffed behind the back close-up
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Literature
five people who mean a lot
a: thanks for teaching me how to laugh—sometimes it is nice to get lost in rolling laughter and hysterical giggles. around you i'm unconscious of worldly things as our jubilance brings me to greater heights and it becomes easier, and also desirable, to live in our moments.
c: your passion can ignite my sometimes dry-stick soul—and you know better than most that i'm not the kind that sits around the bonfire, but with you i'm reminded that there's more to life than the to-do list and i can relegate it to kindling as we roast marshmallows on its remains.
a: you've always had my back, my darling, and it can't be easy. i'm fairly heavy
Literature
I wear you everywhere
Oh how it stings, it stings
this old poetry, these old things
that you mopped up
like blood and suds.
I smile for you, I felt all new and wasn’t sure
what to do. Next, I fastened the seatbelt
and stapled my heart
to the bed.
You lift my sadness off like a hat
and what you’ve taken does not feel
cold or void, I used to sit and struggle
with my heart and lungs
all falling out.
They slid right down
my backside. I grasped
and gasped at the loss.
Now I sit, I do not struggle
as you push
it all back in.
You lift my sadness off,
like an old dress, you remind me
of the other things
I have to wear.
Literature
Slow Drag
Right after midst end of winter
5am,
I woke up from abundance dream.
Shuddering, away, fear of loss.
..Lost.
I turn my back to the cold side of bed... Empty.
I’ve been struggling whether to stay or not.
6:30 am,
The brightness of my phone keeps my thoughts away from him. Fails.
7:49 am,
…Checks the clock again.And wonder if I can get back to sleep. Fails.
8am,
I cry in remembrance.
…,
I’ve been clinging onto my sheet, my body crawls underneath inside of cocoon.
I fight to breath, in despair of forgetting.
…Pause,
I wish if I am never in else’s dream, disappointments,
so many let-downs,
Worries, a
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A response to 
's beautifully amazing note to me which accused me of "thinking in poems."
's beautifully amazing note to me which accused me of "thinking in poems."Comments8
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This - is how true poets think. We don't use the words the words use us and we are powerless to stop them until they are done with us. Very very good