humor
I lose it often
As though I am two different
Minds
With two different
Spirits
Both vying not only for
Attention
But for the same
Voice.
A split but not down
The middle
But more to the
Side
That
I
Am
Terrified of.
Splinter
Break
And Spray.
Fire
Melted stone
And Smoke.
I am enveloped
By my blind rage.
And I collapse and cry.
For I cannot hurt.
I cannot kill.
I cannot strike against.
I can only speak.
And my words
Sometimes are sharper
Than knives
Fresh from the forge.
I censor myself daily.
Am I not deluding who I am?
Deluging my senses with
A watered-down
Me?
For fear that
I'll
Destroy everything
In my path?
Ah fear.
You silly fuckhead.
Go die on a pole.
Ah yes.
That filter
That thing
We were talking about yesterday.
I have one of those
I use it too many places though.
So it shuts down from exhaustion.
Then I remember how many people can read this.
Might read it.
Might completely ignore it.
Never know of it.
Disregard it.
Purposefully open it just to close it.
Abhor it for the sake of its own existance.
Love it for something of which it reminds them.
Despise it for the
Improper use of prepositions,
Non-existant meter,
Capitalization,
Spelling,
Attempts to be self-aware,
And so on.
Frankly I think its a piece of shit.
Maybe if I had a sense of humor
I'd remember
That it doesn't matter.
I'd get it.
The joke.
The punchline.
The sarcasm.
The
Oh, I forgot about how much an english major would loathe my punctuation use as well.
My mother said it was about timing
She forgot to mention
Its about
Spacing
Background
Research
Years of experience
Inside jokes
Tone
Breathing
Excessive emphasis
No emphasis at all
And about
Just "knowing."
Just knowing it all.
People love know-it-alls.
They never shut up.
Maybe that's because
They have the best
Sense of humor
Of all.
As though I am two different
Minds
With two different
Spirits
Both vying not only for
Attention
But for the same
Voice.
A split but not down
The middle
But more to the
Side
That
I
Am
Terrified of.
Splinter
Break
And Spray.
Fire
Melted stone
And Smoke.
I am enveloped
By my blind rage.
And I collapse and cry.
For I cannot hurt.
I cannot kill.
I cannot strike against.
I can only speak.
And my words
Sometimes are sharper
Than knives
Fresh from the forge.
I censor myself daily.
Am I not deluding who I am?
Deluging my senses with
A watered-down
Me?
For fear that
I'll
Destroy everything
In my path?
Ah fear.
You silly fuckhead.
Go die on a pole.
Ah yes.
That filter
That thing
We were talking about yesterday.
I have one of those
I use it too many places though.
So it shuts down from exhaustion.
Then I remember how many people can read this.
Might read it.
Might completely ignore it.
Never know of it.
Disregard it.
Purposefully open it just to close it.
Abhor it for the sake of its own existance.
Love it for something of which it reminds them.
Despise it for the
Improper use of prepositions,
Non-existant meter,
Capitalization,
Spelling,
Attempts to be self-aware,
And so on.
Frankly I think its a piece of shit.
Maybe if I had a sense of humor
I'd remember
That it doesn't matter.
I'd get it.
The joke.
The punchline.
The sarcasm.
The
Oh, I forgot about how much an english major would loathe my punctuation use as well.
My mother said it was about timing
She forgot to mention
Its about
Spacing
Background
Research
Years of experience
Inside jokes
Tone
Breathing
Excessive emphasis
No emphasis at all
And about
Just "knowing."
Just knowing it all.
People love know-it-alls.
They never shut up.
Maybe that's because
They have the best
Sense of humor
Of all.