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SOMETIMES I SHRINK by Lyon Brave


SOMETIMES I SHRINK

Back from it all. There are a million	bows to tie.
Why should I be studious?       Maybe if I were a kid
again I wouldn’t be spoiled rotten. 
I never claimed to understand	              potential.

A lot of circumstances could spawn up from nowhere.
Right	honest	you pussy.
I bleed buckets of salt.
My wounds are corrupt and smell sour.

Light me up.	I am a lamp. There is a deception here.
The trick is smoke and magic. Pay attention	before I snap
my fingers. The sound of my pen writing is a bird dying.
My state is in death. The bath belongs to me. 

My stench is holding me back.
Wash off these chains. Pull them out
of the brick and keep going. Tough guy,
dust off like nothing happened.

Get control of yourself. 
Accept that we don’t welcome lesbians here.
I’m smothered by wool. Most people	  are three bags full.
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lyonbrave

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things. T. S. Eliot

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