Practice

I can’t imagine my words tattooed on people’s bodies

I can’t imagine my words slathered on canvas

Where will they go when I am gone? 

Where will I go when I’m gone?

The words are me

The words aren’t me

Practice.Practice.

Process not perfection.

Do it, do it, just write the words

Let the thoughts go, let it come out

How hard can it be?

You’ve forgotten little star, when the words mean

So much to you, that they are you

Letting them out is like splitting arteries

Laying your nerves bare in the hot sun

Process not perfection

Practice. Practice

The words aren’t me

The words are me

Where will I go when I’m gone?

Where will they go when I’m gone?

I can’t imagine my words slathered on canvas

I can’t imagine my words tattooed on people’s bodies