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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