Can’t Speak A Word

I want to be the best of you

To beat my chest and cheat the rest of you

To the end goal of freedom found

In soft sheets

Hard breath

Pulsing hips

And heaving chest

To wayward mind my tongue

The words you said that came out wrong

The slipped solipsists

And recanted whoopsies

The blue off the lips

The fucks and oh shits

 

This is where I get off for a moment, bear with me here, I tend to lose myself in the words I want to say and forget regress regret? I’m not sure where I’m going with this yet,

But isn’t that why I am appealing to you to give me bits that I can use to bolster my words into something bigger than the lines I’ve written here,

Because I listen to you deliver this sermon this liturgy and find myself in literal ignorancy of the ability the capability of using rhyming words not so much religiously as with intent to perform a part of you that falls out of pages and into view

That rides the listeners jacked up on booze whose attentive ears are your cues to start your testimony your lyrical matrimony and tie the knot between you and your audience who buzz off the adrenalin of this verbal dalliance.

 

I want to be a known to you

A noun

a place

A rendezvous

To steal a memory I am not allowed

Instead of being lost in this

Crowd of people whose minds are blank

Who’d rather stay home watch porn and wank

Than stand on streets

Waving feminism and politics

The difference between equality

And cutting off dicks,

To say I did it and did you all proud

But most of the time I can’t read my own poetry out loud

I don’t like my tone

I hate the way I can’t zone

Out the people who coughed at me naTASHa

And laughed that unspeakable hormonal subject matter

Or stop the speed at which I’m talking

So that you’ll understand I’m not joking

About the lack of protest my legs have tread

Or the amount of time I’ve wanked in bed

Instead

Of being the best of you

I flail around and protest at you

I wine and moan and say sure maybe tomorrow

Which is usually followed by…