I hate writing poetry
But im not a poet
I love writing poetry
But im not a fucking poet
no one’s a poet
poetry is so contrived
and we cant write a new word
I hate being constricted to a form
To being held to a label
Words are so minute
I wish I could communicate through your mind
Through my mind
Arriving at the back of your skull
And reverberate through the cosmos of your mind
I wanna write lines I like so you can snap so I can feel good about myself
so i can touch myself and say “you earned this”
So I can feel like language games are worth my while
And feel like shopenhauer pays off
And so I feel like less of a waste
Im sick of translating my thoughts to words and trying to impress you with my phrasing
The words don’t matter but I hate writing like I talk
And im still not a poet
Im just talking
Maybe the conversation will take place post-listening, post-reading, post mortem
I hope we can talk after death
A little bit of coffin talk before we sleep like after we fuck till we die
And maybe in the midst of all this I can figure out who I am
Who you are
Who we are
Who they are
Who where is
And what this all once was
Before we polluted it with post-industrial ideas and factories
And may we once return to dust
And forget our thoughts and dreams of lust
And greed and envy
Before god and satan knew us best
Only of which the latter instills any feeling in us
I want my feelings to mean something
And meanings to make feelings real
I want to grow and expand and protrude upon new ideas in the realm of false imaginations
I want to die in the name of something great
I want to die in the name of me
But I could never feel that self-righteous
I want to die in the name of language
I want to die in the name of poetry
I want to die as a poet