[So you look down here. You ask yourself why are you even writing! Do you have some cliché feelings of having something to prove? Do you have fucking problems you feel you can’t tell no damn body!? Are you just a punk that doesn’t have the balls to say anything you need to out in the open? Can. You. Not. Think?!]
[You sound angry. Are you angry?]
[Is this anger?]
No; it’s frustration.
this is what happens when the thoughts flood my mind,
And fill every emotional crack connected to my
Beating, crimson manifestation of my
The parts of my confusion become whole,
And the blur
Of feeling everything makes me feel
And then, no, I cannot truly “think.”
And This is why.
This is the oil slick, the mud ditch,
And then the high-end, impact-absorbant
Wall to the racin’.
This takes what I am thinking and forces it to be seen.
this way, it becomes sentences, or at least
cohesive, stand-alone phrases.
In this process, I’m extracting from the cluster of confusion
To find distinct feelings.
And I take each thought and divide them accordingly
From each other, and part them in an order
That I could connect them sequentially,
Or at least understandably. As each
Thought gets its own space on paper, that cluster of confusion
Turns into a cluster of emotions
That I can individually match with the corresponding
And once things get clear, the power erupts through the fear; the passion fights through the tears,
tears, and shears derived from every moment that is dear.
I stare inside the miscellaneous spear, ready to strike the sunset to show the interior
Above the aqueous terrain that plays as mirror. And then, you’ll see her, as well as hear her.
So hear hear, hear ye, whatever gets your focus concentrating.
[So I stare inside something ready
to attack an idea,
and strike its most beautiful point to help break down what matters.
And this helps you see a connection to yourself,
And then once you trust what’s t(her)e
You’ll find a treas(her)]
And this is where it becomes a beautiful blend.
To spend time craftin’ the perfect combination
Of code for communication
to create literary objects & images for not only me to understand.
As I see the product of the process,
But for anyone else willing to take time to experience the process,
And appreciate the product,
And extract the possibility
that one or the other, or both, has helped
Any part of them that they may have been confused, or frustrated, or in general turmoil with.
Which can help progressively influence whatever and whoever they come in contact with.
Which creates a pattern of secular progressive influence as people continue spreading.
So This is why I write?]
Yes, but technically, no.
This is, “What I write.”
[So What I write is why I write?]