Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

24.4.17
Naked truth (dysfunction, never perfect) (self, heart beats, feeling too much + intensity..)

“..listen to its beats, steady of this mind, how it will turn your thought into interluded narration, your mind is a trapped organ, your finger tips are the only truth in this bodies narration, give it life, so much confused chaos, echoing too loud, can not exist at the same time, each heart beat will get over analyzed to a depth of imagination, the mind is a sick organ trapped in this body, you’ll feel its moods interchange its feeling until, it stops feeling like its painful to breathe, you’ll pick apart your confidence with this bodies words, unsure about which chaotic is connected to its infusion, don’t understand its conclusion, do you see, self, truth, the truth is that self is hard to manage, will always want to write as a form of plea, every poem written is encrypted with wreck, n self, its connected to feeling too much at this intensity, its always trying to mean control, can’t quite catch its pondering, call it for what this organ is feeling, this intensity must mean today is not okay, that when you’re mute to your own silence what is left, that your finger tips will shape shift into mouth, this raw inconsistency is difficult to conclude, to sit with, to breath next to, it comes when most unnecessary, will have you swallowing air before you’re ready to leave your space, before you can close the window n allow all the cool air in, wait..”

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