Confessional. Witness. Archive. A grounding, where nothing….where I don’t come to die. Ever. My wishing well. My #WriteOrDie I hope this is a treasure for those that find it.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Gonna write myself out of this mess
Don’t put me in a box
unless it’s a black box.
Me and those walls about to go at it.
Shadow boxing!
Them walls can speak
and they did speak
to me
told me “spill secrets.”
Secrete the truth through my teeth.
Nah I’m lying, cause walls don’t talk
but the floors did
they supported me in everything I said
when times got tough they carried me
me…with all my baggage
they never broke under the pressure
supporting me and the crew.
Popped off in ‘02, wrecking havoc
on stage, black box
experimental creatures
let lose, acting out
pulling from within.
Shit! Had projecting
down to a science
we’s an experiment run amuck.
Dam geeks lost their mind
losing our mind, till we got it together.
Together, asses on the line
taking a bow, curtsey, pound over the heart
wave of the hand, across the lights
given them a hand, they lent us a hand
the guys, behind the switches
wizards of Oz corroborating
in the fantasies, had to be
how else could it be
to feel so alive.
Alive!
A live performance
just what the doctor ordered
just what this patient
who’s losing
her patience, needs.
That aint right.
Gonna write myself out of this mess
right into that box
black box.
Don’t box me in
No censor
No coffin, no box.
Just remnants of me
black like the walls
markings of me- black
memories, dark cross on your forehead,
“From dust you are and from dust you shall return”
Funny phrases, flashbacks- trying to hit rewind
but it’s time, a smudge.
Dust myself off and try again
if at first
no succeed = a little bit closer.
Get a little bit closer
Don’t be ashamed.
Shame
I wanna make you
feel shame
avert my gaze cause you flash back
to you submitting.
I wanna feel dirty with you
like picking at the scab
Jellyfish sting!
Sting like some nalgas
red ridges, rings
pink, crimson, the flesh in between
raw with regret
get turned on
sorely
you’ll remember
soreness won’t let you forget.
Dirty!
Let me rest
Like dust on your flesh.
In between the flesh
my discoveries lie
in between the flesh.
Inches and thickness
weapons of mass eruptions
My
cock
Emotional
cock
Emotional cockiness
hard with certainty.
Certainly hard to believe
But I do.
I believe in you
First draft, fourth
Going on tenth and I do
recognize you
Clear as my voice
Clear comes the voice
Clear comes the voices!
Bouncing off my head
like they’ve bounced off the walls.
Off the wall
Got to beat it
my head, my heart
stain the walls.
Consitent pounding
Handball, slam!
handle the return
not doing it for the returns
I can’t help it
I return,
in observance
for confession
and absolution.
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