Dedicated to @JasminSma - your loyalty, your honesty and your support are more valuable than my thank you's can express.
"Repetition" by Phil Kaye on repetition in my brain. Am I somehow... in a creepy mystical mysterious way hurting my parents by staying in a past they probably want to leave real fast every time the train tracks of their train of thoughts makes its way back to that past?
I think of sending the link of the Youtube video to her: I imagine myself texting something like, "Hey, can I share something with you? This poem is my home.". I don't want to write on this topic partly because I'm scared of hurting and also because there's something in me that's got this thinking that thinking of bad things isn't worth it - thus sinking of that ship that houses that film that's casting that scene where my parents' divorcing impacts me is necessary.
The clock ticks; I can't think -
I don't want this:
to write this;
I can't do this:
try end this.
Is this even poetry?
My mind thinks
no one will know what this
is:
they won't feel it
the way I feel it -
they won't get it.
Mind also thinks
a select few
will read this
and think
and feel,
"For once,
I'm not...
alone".
For you,
I will not rewrite this
and revise it
to be quite
easy to eat
for those who seek
meaning in poetry.
This is it:
[poet's
troubled
mind].
Eat,
Read,
Dissect.
- Leroy Lake
