Can't Decide? Help!

I really, really love this piece. I enjoyed writing about why I write so much, I know I could do several more chronicles. Ironically, I don't know what to title it! Any thoughts?

You wonder why I have so many words, endlessly running mazes.

   What pattern?

   To what End?

   Why does even any of this matter?

 

You see I’m tireless in my search just to be close to you

First letter of every word carrying out a burst of tiny energy,

Burning a new flame of hope.

I’d work until the bones stick through my skin on my fingers pushing off, in a horror of bloody f*****g need.

The keys on this endless board of possibilities, dull whispers of the sound, of this mind on fire, aching for it to change a..n..y..t..h..i..n..g,  focusing distress flying off in sea, where I’ll  drown you in these words, if it must be.

Somehow I’ll reach you, in this perfect circle of waves.

It’s every color, showered in vibrant lovely hollows I hunt down, craving the connection, I’ll find you, I will search each word coloring through this story, until I find that perfectly chronically record, lifting you from the barrier, from apathy, enticing you, I’m tireless, you will hear me again.

It’s tears that create a mist prickling at your skin.

It’s all the space in between that tightens your blood, blinking flashes of sin.

It’s a breath that steadily makes a tiny army not visible to the eye but attacking you under the radar from within, holding a needle poking a hole in the fabric of reality, each lie will shrivel and die, as they went straight at the core, the heart/the meat where every deception spreads from, can no longer host it  dying we can only watch as it deflates, full of nothing but air taking a form of something, that was really never there, see it’s in the atmosphere where none of it means anything anymore, and never did to begin.

Somehow these words serve a secret rumination, a spot I’m glued down to, I dwell, asking of you to take me from it, (somehow) you talk convincing me to see a new link, where you’re the missing artifact, that balances the room, like the only problem, I trace over repeatedly, was this missing link between us, I didn’t discover until your revelation (say it, get me out of the dark). Words allow a captured blink paused in forever, stored.

It’s every moment that changes everything, my perspective shifting like tectonic plates, my knowledge  a sedimentary rock with each word going deeper into layers that change the view, making me race the thoughts, when everything I write is already dissipating from the present, pebbles dropping off into scattered pieces on the ground becoming part of something else, my knowledge rock sprinkling around. It’s is these beautiful words that I write, my knowledge becomes wiser, no longer made of weathering debris, myself completely solid and easily found, pointing me at least in the same direction, rarely influenced no more, with ease by people demanding my inner bend to benefit them.

It’s in these words, Sometimes I dance around my twisted feelings, holding me in twirling fear, fluttering so fast I can’t defend…….Hiding from myself and nowhere to begin, caught in the trance, my innards a thousand moths drawn to the light, that gives the truth, of these perplexing antonyms, that put my intestines into knots, bounding me up & no longer letting anything through as the s**t piled up each time I only saw what I wanted to hear, with every excuse I dropped, more impacted, painful growing wall of s**t. Hating this insight resurfacing, asking me to sort it out, my illusion I thought was peaceful even if very disorganized, my instinct refusing another burial, my instinct fitting into the truth like a glove, pointing out in every direction, a laser lighting up my brain, until I couldn’t deny the tigers eye, he finds me and he leaps at me flying through the air, wounding fatally the lies I told myself, he claws,  flushing out of my system, an enema, down the tube, no longer feeling safety from the honest truth, he’ll tear me a part that demented cat, a warrior defender of my tallest pillar of values, truth, truth, truth.

It’s in these words, I’m never alone, I give it out knowing they’ll at least glance at my pain, they can’t resist the read always holding a titillating possibility, even knowing if they just dismiss what they barely saw, still makes it a little less like hell, just knowing you weren’t the only one aware of these powerful emotions slamming you into the ground, with no mercy punching you, no defense, each round feels endless, even though you have no fight in you, it keeps hitting you and never misses, because you can’t see anything coming when you are alone,  but you write and share these knuckles that seem to be restructuring  your cheek bones, an Ali packed punch, you share the weight, giving you an opponent, beating you lifeless, telling ‘you’ your pain don’t matter, pressuring you to succumb and not even exist, no f**k that, I matter, with every sentence writing it is real, documents, even if whispered, even barely leafed through, meeting the person who may not care, ignoring it like its air, it draws into  reality even in the slightest aware, and whispers your cowardly nature, your coldness, a selfish denial, you still a monster and just because you said so, don’t mean you can pretend,, my pain would never matter, as you put on your tie and smile and slither around in lies, my  pain is now a paper trail, these fingers fluttering, you can’t just dismiss.

The words hiss… They exist. I leave you listless, as anger build’s like a storm in your head, hearing the constant relentless beep, when I can’t be ignored, oh how it annoys, kill me now I’d rather be dead!. Sometimes my words have the very power to light someone up in fire, but don’t forget it is the reader who gives the power to the word, do you really know the intent of this girl behind this wooden box around her ready to defend, even though she says it safe from home, not much to fear from that my friend, letting you choose whether to burn, she’ll only really know if you respond, attacking her every stroke. Anticipation! Anything you say makes it valid, she is desperate for the silence to end.

It’s a windy breeze that blows each hair away from your face, that comes back the next day stronger than before, like a poltergeist reaching in, shoving your back, gusts of winds swaying everything in sight, like little tiny daggers, those words had bite, sometimes just a whistle in the background, sometimes overtly nipping, clawing at your being, seemingly to hold your resilience like a prisoner, these words holding all the cards, the words have a life of their own they will not fall, a substance you cannot dissolve. These words, a ruler, King. But just as valid the small word that cower, hide and shake, afraid of the impact they make, worried rolling fear, barely saying what is inside of thee.

It’s a non-allowance of short cuts, these words an advocate, deeply expressing every fact, forming the sentences, then building the paragraphs (Do you want an autograph?) an essay where they become cognizant of the impact, the consequences very real, perfectly laid out and direct, you’d be a moron not to feel the letters as a threat.

It’s in these words you find what you could not at first see, the way it all fits together, you would of never of just seen, writing asks the words for answers, unlocking a pattern once impossible  to see,it cannot be, you found in the language, as the words become statistically likely to once again emerge, solidity surfacing telling you something in a new way, way never before told.

It’s in these words, we all sometimes wonder, and to what end? It ends when you say it is enough, in the right way, or it gets resolved. It ends sometimes when you can’t let it’s wording rapture, hurt you anymore, sometimes you dial it back, the wounds may not stop bleeding it may never end, sometimes you leave it all out there on hundreds of pages, that never win, but still on the outside of you, now a reflection, a possible lesson, and still sometimes you find nothing good, nothing just at all, but your words allow outside of you (I am), with pen or typewriter you get out all the sorrow and the rage, it’s in these words you just might save yourself leaving behind the hate.

It’s in these words I heal myself sharing my soul, or letting it engage me, by myself, not always meant for an audience, sometimes just mine to keep, safe and sound, alone with me as they fall on page, beautiful Picasso no matter how contrived or free, a peaceful goodnight song. Just me and you forever my loves, my thoughts, my feelings, punctuating comfort. Little words set me free, go off in the distance as I try to sleep, another day you’ll have a shot at the page. Nothing to lose, all to gain, in this thrilling form of communication, not meant for everyone, but meant for me, as you can surely see, this poem is just chattering now, because it doesn’t want to end.

Author's Note

I have a feeling it will need to be edited many times (to get it just right). #Unfadable so please don't try to fade me. I really value and appreciate detailed comments. Give me critics. Give me your reactions to it is you read. How do you see this? Sad? Mad? What was the best or the worst parts? What would of made it better? Your effort, will make a difference----because words matter :)