did a lot of writing then i wrote about it

n you wonder where your introspection gets you
maybe ponder how all these questions existential
will only ever imply or offer insights around yourself
as opposed to imply or lead to answers to themselves

self consuming/cyclical but you can change
(at least i think i can)

downhill* state of mind

fuck about waitin on them first post
hangin out on a tab perpetually
eventually clicked and completed
fleeting poems about poems about
deeds and ventures, mastication
miscellaneous spelt right on the first try
leccy spatulas zappin house fies, honey
i x‘d the y, the team try-outs
and open air auctions for them
summer-breeze buy-outs/honey the winds
are in our favour,
and we’re better off for it!





*
literal downhill/in a good way
in a slight huh-ray but it’s fine cos theyz
a spring on your step n they
awaiting you but it’s fine

and how

these is what works for me n
these is what gives me but
i needs more mediums n skills to express what
can come through, what would’ve been
brought out, about by energy/momentum
brought about by the presence of others who bring out
the best in me but i don’t wana be reliant, i
wanna bring out my best all by myself

something of a manifesto

all i need’s a hit! t’be back n on track
a chin soaring, face gleaming/beaming, chest swelling
tear jerker, thought provoker
poking round and testing waters
finding flows for me this year n
tryin not to second guess n
lettin loose n
bein loose n
yearnin not to lose my touch
with what i say i hold so dear, so
i put my words where my mouth is..
n proclaim that this is my space
my stomping ground where i say and scream and flail n writhe
as i please/at my discretion/in all directions and
i wish on, wistfully. casting pebbles for luck n
hurling deadly stones alike n
loving sincerely, unconditionally & authentically.
and setting fires to tell stories by n
laying claim to this tiny corner/patch of space, connected.
i’m a google result, but my network doesn’t know cos
i’m afraid of a sea of the whats and the who’s,
the thoughts and the critics, the cynics too
the sprawling, imagined expanse of liquid critique,
n the hatch opens/drenches/drowns
every word i’ve ever said, washed away before me
while conjured judging lenses deconstruct my stories.
so i sit and neglect what could be a talent or a calling or
at least something that heals me
(and it does so every time) and it will always be,
perpetually OK to need affirmation of the self
and to attain aforementioned through self expression
and authenticity, remains key
for me at least