All the thoughts that collect in my mind right now lead to biting... TMI
A phrase sewn into the very fabric of my thoughts and words,
Let's be weird for a second so that I can feel normal,
Its been awhile,
We all know the feeling,
There is a selfish stench that covers the true sincerity of being on the end of a babbling mouth,
Word vomit so I've heard.
A price for the anxiety driven conversation,
That, one, I? you?
Just want to end by revealing that too much has been shared and all of Hell will open to devour the chosen who failed to keep the mouth shut,
Speak it anyways,
Just yesterday I thought about fucking, indeed I did,
How little, how much, how long,
It's not hard to know this moment,
Where a sensation overcomes experience,
What a beautiful snipit of what matters,
Becomes some sort of "okay,"
Unless controversy over ego and ego draws a tarnished line of how much I and you know,
I really can only focus on one subject within this,
It took me like 8 times to even begin this one poem,
I kept getting distracted, love, children, being a teacher,
Following tangents of conversations and panicked assumptions, those normal thoughts that see the warning signs of danger,
Light up a cigar and say "fuck it,"
Charging full speed into the unknown,
All of that kept me from drawing a conclusion to why I really wanted to tell anyone that I like biting.