i'm always naked
sure, it's beneath my visible clothes
and yeah, when i'm in the shower
and more or less every time i'm home alone
but there are other times
other whimsical nonsensical times
when i'm fully ****
and nobody even notices
when i'm raw
when i expose any facet of my idiosyncrasies
when i fall
when i suppose i'm in pain purposefully
when i draw
when i paint with a purpose to show my sadness and rage
when i write
when i put words to use in the way conversation betrays
people react to ****** in various levels of extreme
some get aroused
some get repulsed
but nobody seems to appreciate the nakedness of my raw mind
completely exposed
full frontal
appreciate it or just don't look

Maybe one day I’ll write you a book
Something about what everything is about

I won’t file it down like the rest of the world.  
No my book will have all of the rough edges that life has.

The edges that’ll cut you if you don’t watch

Why not soften it up?
Because then it wouldn’t be real
It would just be a fantasy.

And the last time I checked
Life doesn't come with any
Safety precautions.

Instead life comes raw.
So my book to you will be equally undercooked.

Because I love you enough
not to lie.

My only hope is that you can enjoy my gift to you.
As much as the meal its self.

Being frank here,
I think a lot

And I think about
my thinking

And I have a unique way of thinking
as do most people

But I combine my thoughts
with analogies
I conceive through
my creativity
And weave them
into words

Which I have learned to love
through my obsessive reading
in my elementary
school
days
...
That's it
I haven't read
enough official
published
poetry

I don't really
edit my
poetry
much

I don't overthink
it
too much
either

Just my thoughts,
on a lonely page
...
...
...
I've wondered time
and time again,
is this even
poetry?

My thoughts
carved with
a
choppy
cleaver

Rough on the edges
with spots of
honesty

As well as
parts,
as smooth and cold
as marble
The honesty hidden
beneath
eloquence
analogies
other distractions
evasions
...
when the truth
is too much

But it's still me on the page
...
...
But what I can't figure out
is,
do I do it
for social approval?
To be heard?
To spill out my emotions?
To make something beautiful?
...
Just cause?

A wintry night
the wind swirls around
...
...
...
blowing my questions
away with a chill...