I don’t want to mask my poetry

I want you to understand me

Curse your perfect rhythms, rhymes, haikus

Your lyricism, your literary

When I try to adopt it, I turn mute.

Something channels through me

(I’ve never really found the root)

A demanding stream of consciousness

That cannot stop to breathe, let alone

Wait, conceptualise, draft, redraft

I can’t!

...

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If I am your world

with my head lying on your chest,

then is the b-beat b-beating tectonic plates?

Is your heart safely caged?

Can I lift my head or will you break?

You are the love between my legs.

You are my love, between my legs.

Are you the birthmark on my flesh?

It beats: s-stay s-stay...

Is your heart safely caged?

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