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First thought, best thought, always

 

I’d rather have a bleeding heart

Than possess a rotting soul.

I’d rather wear it on my sleeve

Than be trapped within control.

I’d rather let it all hang out –

For the whole wide world to see.

Than keep it locked –

Asleep, deep down

With aggressive passivity.

I’d rather open up the cracks

(expose the flesh beneath)

Than paper over them –

Awkward, cheat

This vain and proud disease.

 

I know that I can laugh –

Unruly

All belly like and free

I know that I can love –

Quite truly

So borderless and deep

I know that when I cum –

My sweets

With he or she or me

I fucking mean it –

Own it –

I feel it –

From my lips to my hips to my feet.

 

I have touched

The runny bit at the centre

Reached beyond

The fronds of my palm

Cried endlessly

Like a baby

Wept weep

Like a woman disarmed

Ached hard

For the lover that left me

Drank heavy

Sought comfort, relief

Felt broken

In the face of inertia

Come whole

Through self-belief

 

So judge me on my

Syntax

Cut me down

For my aesthetic and form

But my feel it –

Think it –

Say it – (Do it)

Is something from which

Y’all could learn.

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