A Poet's Poison

I don’t want to get so lost in the pursuit of you that I forget to be true to me. Forget to take care of me, to make time for me, to speak life in the form of poetry. To speak to the heart and the soul of me, the thing that makes me whole again. There's that hole again. The one I keep sliding into when my words don’t make sense to you. Not because I don’t make sense to you but because my words aren’t common scents to you. You can’t SMMMMMEEELLLLLLLL what my mind is cooking. Taking sundry words and exposing my mind to time. It’s time to delve in the realm of places unexplored and lose who you think I am in a sea of words. Just promise to drown me in the sound of my heart beating sweet melodies of death. So that when I die, I die true to the reflection of imperfection that always looked back at me. Back to the first word on the first day that life made cents and dollars for me. For it was then that I knew that my words had worth and gave birth to the poet that’s shackled inside of me. Inside of me is where lyrics are the poison that drives me to creative insanity and mental ecstasy. Words do more than any man can do for me. Think you can handle me? Then pick up a pen and demand some respect from me.