Spoken word piece

iamnotthere

A STRUGGLE, MY WORDS

My words are often two sided; this is how I write them, misguided
My message is to be decided, later on I divide it. Divided into senses that are
Heightened through my youth, though I can’t get excited
My confusion is through the roof, I lied and I lied
And a truth
A truth that hits me
I’m really looking for a voice that fits me
Not already spit or tipsy
A place where I can see. A place where I can be seen.
A place where I’m free
Free to obtain a hustle
Obtain with a tussle then retain with a bustle.
A memory in my muscles.
From my body I must dissociate.
Dissociate until I can originate.
Then activate a style, something worth while
To rend, rent and rupture
Maybe, a vulture, a sculpture, or a structure
A punctured arrangement of flowers
Then a framework of belief gone sour
A belief gone, gone out of passion, then a fashion, a reaction
Our cultism caused this distraction
The old bandwagon shared with me a fear of new verity.
This could cause an un-supervised turbid certainty.
An energy. A freedom to fight back. Adrenaline.
A calm. A cool.
Heartache left in a pool of alcohol.
To smoothen wood with craggy hands. A broken clock of time and sand.
Broken but not in need of mending.
A hate full of love and understanding.
A redesigned standing.
A horror
A mineral
An exit
Pipe gauze
To be always vertical, then subside
Into function
A junction with suction.
A left turn he forgets this thinker with determination and check.
A power to be, with blood in his nation he sees.
That he is the one in the driver’s seat.
He considers this a dangerous feat.
He is shown cars spinning out of control, he knows, he is a mirror image.
A devotee to damage. A famine.
A natural pesticide. Used for observant genocide.
A man that took him outside and said you have to catch yourself off guard
To try
Would be to transfigure temper towards temperance
He is scared he cannot attempt such deliverance.
He must soar high above his innocence. Realise he is no longer innocent.
He is filled with temptation. His agitation.
Again as a nation we must deliver ourselves with patience.
He must wait for weight crushing down upon him.
Relief knowing there is a bottom. A bottle of something.
A though resting. I could think of less things.
I could ask an easy favour.
Blessed and consecrated is our saviour.
He who knows no wrongs then those he rights.
I write this deep into a night

Then I take a pause

Then a deep breath

Then I look at what I cause and take a week’s rest.
And smoke trees, with their branches I hook words and sentences together, I gather and tether what I can from whether I can look into my mind and follow it through with my heart.
I stop. I start.
I only started to write again recently, out of my decency, its feeding me, its pleasing me to speak with these, to breathe through these dreams. To sleep with thee on white pillows. I see white pills.
I swallow. I take another pause.

After another tree, green leaves remind me of what I am and used to be.
And still I sink. On the brink of understanding myself better, together, unsettled, words sounding better. My skin feeling softer, I’m offered and offered, I’m quite sure I’ve lost it. The beat.
I take another pause.
I’m only a beginner, a sinner, with no promise to deliver but trace and take blood thinners and weed and read over summers. A love from the summer. A summer of love.
A heaven above that rests in your soul; you are not what I’m told but what I find, spurred from my mind and my fingers. I find rhythms. I find chemical collisions that cause visions.
Hallucinations bring emancipation from explanations.
From living. Tired of forgiving so sleep to forget.
This turns to regret but with you I am fresh.
Free to explore, encouraged to implore sensations and vibrations on the skin of your back.
A beauty that suits you. With you when 2=1 then 1=2

I take another pause

I replenish my resources.
I drink not from the well, a hell tainted by those who sell resources and protection.
Our governments. Fundamental covenants
Funded.
I drink from the waters of the earth and there experience.
I take a weary glance at businesses, banks and prisons.
Then a loving gaze towards mountains and earth’s natural fountains.
A water fall. Where there is plenty, plenty for all.
The animals hoping in someday a fall. A collapse. A revolution.
An institution where I am fed wrong answers and food laced with Ambien.
I take a final pause…………….

A lost soul escapes my body.
I can see it glowing. It is an ether.
I watch it when I make decisions.
Usually towards transition. They say I have a mental condition. I call it a vision.
I want nothing less than nothing more. This reality has got me bored. But who can afford hits?
Who can really live when they don’t give a **** or know how to give?
I am enlightened….but is this why I am frightened?
I see it all in all I see, no I am not a poet or a revolutionary,
I am dark question resting under a tree. I can be.
Be a prophet. Cause I make my words unbreakable so nothing can stop it.
With my words I could carry out many actions with conviction.
I could impact my reflection.
I could throw a flower of a cliff.
I could watch it settle and love and nurture it.
I could take a bundle of sticks and walk barefoot through all these wonderings.
I could look for answers among other things.
I could change everything.
I could change direction. I could draw attention.
The attention of birds and there inflections.
I could be sorry
I could impact a quiet morning and become this new day dawning.
But, by now, my words are probably causing some yawning.