that’s how my words fall from my teeth,
a gritted, unforgiving porcelain filter
when others listen to me.
each carefully chosen syllable,
each hand-crafted letter,
each sewn-together sentence
to position my lips
to move my tongue
to pull my vocal chords
in the precise dance that will
make my speech sound
that’s how my thoughts feel in my mind,
an anxious, spongy filter
when other listen to me.
each well-intentioned suggestion
each string of joking words
each intricately placed story
to connect with my lips
to relax my posture
to remain organizaed
in the precise structure of ideas that will
make my thoughts seem
but this is not who I am.
when i am comfortable,
no longer a stiff puppet of my own creation,
my words flow in a rushed mixture of:
ideas jokes stories suggestions sarcasm exclamations interjections loud tones whispers laughs
my ideas a fluid river of:
creativity precise planning wild dreams mundane inner monologue interpretation memories
without filters, I am me.