fear has hindered me from putting pen to pad…
rather, the ink stains my tips and lips
the paper crumples beneath the balls of my feet
i am treading crop circles in my room of creation

so i sit…

…maybe my leopard to tap out my deepest thoughts

make u think they’re worthy of something more
than contriteness

i really just want u to hear me
and in this madness
i have neglected the power that runs through me

i AM bigger than me

but ur universe has me questioning everything
like how someone who’s always thought they were whole
now feels complete in ur presence
and at the same time, less than
cause i doubt i will ever write that line
that reminds u that there is any good left

i can only speak what the spirit gives me
live what the spirit shows me
like ur innermost
and i am mostly confused
since the words don’t flow so freely no more
(only cause i fear ur dissection)
but this really isn’t a sad revelation…
just a remnant of my hesitation
to discover that most pits do have bottoms
and u can never really brace urself for when u fall…