By Daniel Paiz & Poetic Rebel
The biggest obstacle to making one’s way
into another’s heart,
is by first getting out of one’s own head.
*Peers back into the steamed reflection of self,
wondering why these conversations swirl again and again,
changing from US to Australian standard toilets
and back again*
How do you keep getting into these headspaces,
usually time alone or unwanted surroundings leads
to creative growth through time-tested places,
but now?
Now you’re just looking for answers to a problem you
don’t know or won’t acknowledge.
…
Well first off I fucked your steam and in the shower I—
Same old Poetic, humor as a shield—
wield tremendous power behind these digits.
No fidget spinners, purchases of unknown
nostalgic candles in containers wicker,
I’m flickering because I’m not sure what to ignite next.
Here comes the phoenix reference—
These phoenix wings can combust a mic on sight,
despite feeling like a being with less than might.
I don’t have to rhyme every line just to prove my point.
Or to get my feelings across.
*sings* is this slam poetry life—
I continue to vent so I’m not spent internally
and so I don’t nullify my rhyming mind.
*still singing* or is this his rapping-ing—
My spine hurts, and in more ways than one.
My fear shouldn’t endear me to a twisted sense of brave,
for minimally engaging in work reducing me,
*singing* will he make a new alibi—
engineering me to not care, just stare, not spare
the moments needed to recognize and advance my humanity,
*finishes singing* or finally change his destiny?
reminding me strangulation is not in my toolbox of weaponry.
But I digress, steam.
I don’t need a stitching machine to put together,
that there’s more to life than looking forward
to Friday pay stubs every week.
Unionizing my ideas in my mind will better serve
my dreams with my reality,
with my doubts and my piss-poor fallacy,
because just like this thin sheet of shiny glass,
I can shatter these anxieties into
unexpected fractal tapestry *breaks glass*
…