I Keep My Mind Busy

XXXIII.

I keep my mind busy

With all these fucking words

Stories manufactured

In my head and put onto paper

And I read them, I’m always

Seeing in. I’m saying

I’m constantly somewhere else.

Talking to myself in conversations

With real Imaginary people

practicing projecting on impulse

A childish notion

Wise even without the words

To know that something

Is always the same

Some pattern paved in my childhood

A crux memory

When I was 3, my mother spanked me

After promising me she wouldn’t

There’s nothing minor about that moment

I carry the confusion still

It’s evident in my suspicious mind

I greet every compliment with squinted eyes

the uneasy urge to protect myself

Cripled by the fear that I am saying too much

That i’m feeling too deeply on the page

Like i was just supposed to skim the surface

This is what i’m writing to reveal

It’s why At my core I’m only interested

In words in poem form

Drawing lines from there to here

And that’s just where I am, standing

A chance of being more than my bloodline

The inherited wound I will not pass down

I’m not asking anyone to fix me

I’m just needing to be witnessed

To watch you hear it

Come out my mouth

So that I can get on with the next part

Daydreaming it differently

Multi-onionioning my mind

One memory at a time

with my fingers and with tongue