sometimes i can't get the god damn words out
i want it to be perfect
beautiful
straight
small but seen and heard
i want it to be the 12 point font
in the lines - stray from going out of the box
no red lines
no misspells
no mistakes
i don't want to apologize to my parents
for my feelings, the thoughts left out
on the table, the trust
i had in them to not open up
and tarnish
at this point i don't know who or what i'm talking about
myself or my poetry?
i guess it's 2 in 1 - a bottle of shampoo and conditioner
you can't grab it off the shelf and take out the conditioner without alittle shampoo too
my body is the gun metal, my insides the gunpowder
my lips the kick, my tongue the trigger
you ask for me, you get it all
the bad nights, the good ones, the dark days, the bright ones
the weapon and the ammunition
sometimes i can't get the god damn words out
i want it to be real
f*cked up
ugly
crooked with loose screws
i want it to be the stripped down version
of a song, perfectly outspoken
with none
of that
filter shit
i can't apologize for the bruises it'll leave
the torn up skin on fingertips
all the pinprick thoughts
reaching out at you
itching to lure you in too
i tried to separate the salt from the water
before it dissolved
but i was too late
it's apart of each other, when 2 becomes 1
you can tear, tug and break
but you can never separate it
my body is the faded painting, a million layers of colors
only to show up pale
broken
scarred
there's too much skin, i have small bones
(big bones and not enough skin)
sometimes i can't get the god damn words out
i want you to hear me
see me
understand me
love me
8-19-17
7:00