being a poet is being stuck in your own labyrinth.
most people are disillusioned by the hard edges;
words & line limits; characters and documents.
it’s easy to get mystified by the maze of abstraction.
being a poet is being a cut above the dissonance;
creating perspective into seeds; cross-pollinating
ideas of opposing logics: healthy and toxic.
it can be intoxicating: subverting the narrative.
I’ve never truly surrendered my chemist position;
I understand, cellularly: germination; mutation;
cross-contamination; viral replication.
I hope I can stop attracting viruses of humans.
I’ve never truly surrendered my chemist position;
I understand, cellularly: searching for protease;
glycoproteins; reverse transcriptase; phospholipids.
I hope I can stop surrendering—so numbly tight-lipped.
being a poet has robbed me of so much of my identity.
it no longer impresses me that I now lack ability
to think outside of confines; 2-4 lines, philosophically.
this is no remarkable feat for a photographic memory.
being a poet has robbed me of so much of my identity.
I’ve spent five years kneeling before a computer screen.
only now do I feel like I’m starting to become clean;
independently, outside of obsessive searches for seen.
I’ve never truly surrendered my chemist position;
I still understand life with a cellular specificity;
can so easily divulge the most complicated philosophies
while clutching a makeup brush; cup of coffee or tea.
I’ve never truly surrendered my chemist position;
even while transferring majors and societal definitions;
coming out; through, and within have all been ordained
by something higher-than; divinely & spiritually connected.
I guess it’s time to start administering my prescriptions;
perform the processes of self-pollination & germination.
it’s time to reclaim the tool once solely for healing
but was quickly reduced to marketable ideas & constraints.
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