Why are we offended by other people's truths?

Our ego shooketh to it's core

Feelings Bruised? like we'e been battered by an ore

Raw, words come spilling out like a kid in a candy store begging for more!

Why does their truth feel like someone telling us to imitate a dog standing on all fours...panting and all!

Or is it that we don't know who we truly are at our core

Pretending to ...

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Face like stone

Hard to read

I find myself taking pride

In my totem pole

Of expressions, I can hide

Masterfully deceptive

Every bit secretive

All heart without sleeves

Makes it easier to breathe

But being naked

Really stripping off

And just letting everyone watch

That is true strength

True power

Is knocking down this tower

Being bare

Just a sk...

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I tried beautiful,

I tried pristine,

I was no good at it

I’m not neat within

I’m not “clean”

Even externally, I cannot master

Clearing every bit of clutter

I’m raw, like an egg

It’s not pretty to have a cracked head

But if I don’t

I’m practically dead

As inanimate and detached as my wooden bed

To be raw is

Painful,

Ugly,

Messy,

But it’s rich with fee...

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Real love is life threatening 

It’s not serene, sweet, dream love

It’s not romantic, rainbow love

No

True love is torture 

Gut wrenching pain

Hands and knees, love 

Need it to breathe, love 

It’s enough to put you away, love 

But never pull you away, love 

It’s masochistically addictive 

It titillates and irritates

Possesses every bit 

Until you have a fit

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Not by any means ready

I needed time to prepare

The whole thing rushed

Not even done my hair

Our first date was a joy

You polished up my id

Later it was downhill

Absolving what you did

Stop at such carnage?

Damage far too raw

May as well see it out

Let us call it a draw

Its become a pattern

Anguish, I'm a sucker

Clutch what I can get

I ne...

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I don’t need to proofread

I don’t even care. 

My poetry is my heart, and I don’t need to

Check it over, because the thoughts I write 

Are the thoughts that my heart evokes. 

If the grammar is wrong, if the words are clunky,

If my explanation is off then that’s okay.

That’s what my heart wanted to say.

I don’t care whether anyone likes my words 

They’re not for ...

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The soul of an artist,

famine or harvest.

An exercise in extremity,

symmetric serenity.

Raw yet crafted

a tool made from bone

fleshed out by interpreting existence.

The soul of an artist,

famine or harvest.

An exercise in extremity,

symmetric serenity.

A fusion of real and surreal

a soulful symbiote

intertwined with their v...

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