I enjoyed your abstractivity
Thought those odd shapes
Could fit me nicely
But tying myself into knots
So you don’t start screaming
Has taught me that maybe
Freedom of expression
Matters more than it was seeming
I realise you are in your element
When it’s furthest from me
Finally belly laughing
And standard free
I have my own customisation
When it comes to levels’ met
And I ain’t seen you mould
Into that shape yet
But I want that humour
I want that ebullience
I want that soft, kind and understanding
Temperament
All for being yourself
Holding that state true and strong
But I don’t want to be punished by it
Just for stepping one foot wrong
I enjoyed being adorned
Wear those medals with glee
But perhaps all these pretty shiny things
You’ve bought
Have cast a false shape over me
I don’t fit in that box anymore
I just fill your blood with fire
Things I would laugh at with anyone else
Lead me to walk along the wire
Clean it up before you get home
Hide the broken chips
Text friends about what makes me laugh
Consult only old prophets in my dips
How much disapproval
Qualifies the organism to plainly
Just no good?
And what murky little devil
Lurks underneath the hood?
Can’t even bring my eyes to meet yours
Or touch your familiar skin
The things that pressed and poked and fucked
Fat and plump
Have starved themselves grey and thin
I demand my technicolour
Want nothing less than neon
Just another thing
We disagree on
Too stubborn to allow odd
To meet union
And certain to find middle ground
Too quiet
And too loud
Too shy
And too proud
Too missing
And too around
Too lost
And too found
So what’s the theory
To this abstraction?
What’s the plot to this tale?
I’m not looking for denouement
But the same old story’s gotten stale
I ask for better
You get angry
You ask for better
I get upset
Caught up in how it makes us feel
As individuals
Rather than goals of realistic measure
To be met
Why do we have to jump and make the cut out?
Are the waters below so deep?
I’m starting to think it’s better
To take that gut-punching sweep
Cleanse ourselves of what’s
Bubbled into disaster
Clean ourselves from crown to feet
Float to the banks of the bathing
And meet
Ready to turn what’s turned sour
And just be sweet
Love shouldn’t be an agility course
And it’s allowed to stop drawing neat
Some days you win, other days you get beat
I’ll try accept you for the form you fit
If you stop smashing the bits you don’t like
Out of me…
by Lyric Deep.
Lyric Deep™ 