Sometimes I don’t even wanna talk to myself
So writing these poems gets hard
I want all the pigtail and gristle
With no lard
I want to fill these deep and plunging
Silences
Scream down my yard
I want to burn my throat so abundantly
My words are left smokey and charred
I want to fill the whole page
Use ink to scar my heart into art
But when you ain’t talking to yourself
The effort turns weak and bizarre
I extract letters and fornicate words
Bloom sentences that’ll never get heard
Until suddenly my brain blurts
A couplet or stanza that works
Then the guilt rolls in
When I can’t find its feet
And the body just gets overturned
I scrunch and I bunch a sentence or two
Lose the rhyme and it hurts
I thought this is what I was born to do
But the silence forms cage and I’m doing bird
Yet I have all these feelings inside me
Scratching to express and pour
I’ve just lost the ability
To turn it into more
More than simply my headache
More than a tour
Of self pity and scorn
More than the twist in my lips
That has ripped me to bits since I was born
Forlorn and dejected I storm
Swarm memories and histories that brought
Stories to life that were bigger than me and larger than mine
But they’re inches from the clutch of my claws
I panic when I itch for approach
Terrified I can’t even get close
The simplest of lexicon
Can turn line to a hexagon
But my host of loose tongue holds a thorn
I sit plucking and pinching
Hope for reply
From me and my
Troubles that flooded full books
But I took the bait from the hook
When I exhausted all cranny and nook
Of the darkness that exists in me and took
Creativity in free for full board
I don’t want to talk to myself anymore
I don’t want to talk to nobody
Don’t want to show body or run from the law
I lust for basic and thick
To be happy with it
Then the bubbling ripples once more
I’ve got a note that I scribble
Single turns triple
I rip index and thumb in the war
I’m fighting my own intellect
My observation turns introspect
Diamonds of mind and the bling collects
Until my eyes are clouded by swords
I cut them deep, tear on eyelash peeps
I rant and I rave and I’m floored
A frustration turns creation
I don’t want to put halt to the thought
Found an appreciation only after mistaking
Solemnity to be the singularity that I sought.
By Lyric Deep.
Lyric Deep™ 