Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Rough draft

There is this thing about life.
The thing they don't teach in schools
Or churches
Or office buildings



Because it is too wild
And too full
To be contained
In any edited text



There is magic that exists
Just waiting
To give itself



It has a heartbeat
And it finds yours


And there is no stopping how far it
Will unfold


All you have to do
Is leave enough spaces
Enough unedited places



For it to slip in unnoticed
And upend everything
You thought you knew


You notice
The periods become cages
Because there are no endings


The synonyms are lies
Because they try too hard



The paragraphs trying to make presentable what cannot be presented



To in-dent
What cannot be dented
Truth has this way of flying free


Everything handed to you
In a manual
Meant to make you Good



And Readable
Up-ends itself


Because Good has fire
And Life
And a wild love
In its eyes


The kind of burning ecstasy
That makes you throw the books away
Those Watered down versions
Of what flames around you



Uncensored, unedited, unraveled unending


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