All I Am. All I Have. Is Words.

Lately … . the words have been getting in the way.

this isnt a poem.  this is just my way of explaining my behavior because I’m forever compelled to do so.

The words get in the way because it’s so blatantly obvious that I can’t consciously connect my own feelings into a poem.  not when its about myself.  I keep trying and making these half assed attempts that all come out sounding like fucking narratives from a 3rd party perspective.

and thats part of the fucking problem.  I remain observant and detached from everything i feel.

its been this way for longer than id care to remember.

I want to write all this fucking metaphor into my poetry and break away from the narrative to give blatant imagery a go

but sometimes i think im too right brained

too literal

too fucking observant and detached

to get inside what im feeling

too fucking scared of being judged 

too quick to convince myself that any poem about my intimate feelings and experiences 

is fucking stupid.

a waste of mine and your time.

because as much as i fear being judged… . 

it’s myself i refuse to face.

mini free write aside- im going to start posting rough cuts of poetry as often as possible as opposed to the occasional finished work,  

honestly, i feel like i need to get the 100 bad poems out of me so that i can dig to the good ones buried in places too dark to see.