I don't know what this poem is about. I swear that sometimes my writing is guided by some sort of muse or something, because I just don't get where some of this crap comes from.
Regardless, here's what came onto the paper tonight. I got to the end, had no idea what I meant by it, waited a good 20 minutes for the next line (although I clearly felt like it was the end)...and eventually gave up. Here is this poem as it wanted to be written. Don't ask for meaning. Take it for what it is. Whatever that is.
Untitled (for right now)
Most days, my body feels
more out than in.
My heart has always
grown wrong-way-out
beats my skin like a
war drum announcing
my presence as a battle
my presence is a battle
I need to stand up for,
so I sweat from the
outside in.
Let it pool in the cells
between my ribcage
make saltwater baths
where emotions float on the surface
effortlessly
as everything floats in
the Dead Sea
but everything in me is
opposite:
like the Dead Sea is
really alive,
like the empty places
are overflowing,
like my heart makes
breaking fall together,
like a battle drum says
ba-dum...ba-dum...ba dum...,
my heart beat chants my
skin
be-from... be-from ...be-from
whirs my blood to a
heavy down-beat
beau-ty love beau-ty love
be-from
beau-ty love beau-ty love
be-from
beau-ty
be-from
love
be-from be-from
beau-ty beau-ty beau-ty...
like pieces of a
machine,
I work together at full
capacity with a
low battery beep--
a synonym for
contradiction--
my soul is a rainforest
not yet discovered:
its natives are fierce,
with scathing eyes
holding the cure we
fear with bloodstained hands
laughing as I fumble
toward our ever elusive
goal.
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