Poem Written Upon Realising That Nature is Full of Elegant Designs but I Live in a Square Brick House.

I have expanded my vocabulary.
I still can’t form a proper sentence in any language that matters,
but isn't chicanery a wonderful word?

I have moved in the right direction
taking tentative steps onto the air
that led nowhere...

and... I've cut to the bone of my perceptions,
ripping my ideas out by their roots but
I'm still no closer to (god)
the einsteinian core of (lateral) thought.

I took myself out onto a field,
stood there, an easy target.
Stood there an easy target and RIPPED MY FACE OFF
wrenched at the tendons and filed the bones
(drew a razor along my skull)
took my face like a ball of clay and
sculpted something more believable.

10 days later
I left that field
a perfect being

and got shot.

I want you to know
that I love you. I love every curve
that you present me withevery
obstaclethatIhavetojumpevery
SLAPINTHEFACEYOUGIVEMEbut
this feels so unnatural...
you've got me
off balanced like you've
snapped my hamstring and severed my limbs AND EVISCERATED HALF OF WHAT’S INSIDE OF ME
and you haven’t done me any good.

I'm going back to the field.
this time, it's going to be different.
Oh, I'm going to change, alright.
stand stock still and tense every muscle
and clench my fists and grind my teeth
and concentrate so damn hard that
the saw-grass will lift itself out by it's roots
and the boulders will fling themselves off the mountains
and the ocean with groan and the sky will crack and
it will all come crashing down on me,
SMASH me into a bloody pulp EFFACEme and in an elemental rage
GRIND ME INTO THE DIRT

and yes, rearrange me.

I'm afraid.
More than I've ever been in my entire life
that I'll never come out of a storm like that, but:
If I can come out as myself
then it might be worth it.