so i was challenged to do,
like,
a slam poem
and i said, “no, really,
i have nothing with which to slam about
that i have not already, like, slammed,”
and she said: “why don’t you ever
get up and perform them you have a million”
and i had to look her in the eyes and say:
“i’m scared of what happens when the crowd goes silent”
the truth is that an echo in me is resounding, that
some fear of a raised voice still shakes its fist above me,
a cacophony of insecurity, a promise that
i’ll fail any trail i lead
i know that there’s a word for that now, i know
how to breathe through a panic attack now, i know
the color of the inside of a hospital, the inside
of a doctor’s mouth as they sound out “OCD/ANXIETY"
while your ears are ringing
oh, i know. i was raised woman so i can’t tell if it’s my
mental illness or just my conditioning that has me so tied up
about speaking, about all eyes on me, about saying
my piece,
but since we’re counting i’ll call it 50/50
i’m promised on the regular that all people get stage fright,
right
did you know that some people, when faced with public speaking
would rather actually real-life die
what good am i, i wonder, in this world where we all
seem to spill out our lives to a bigger audience than ever
and teenagers write books that blow mine to shreds and
children write poems that tackle bigger issues than mine ever did?
but she looked at me,
with those hopeful eyes glowing,
and she said, “read to me, i’m listening,” and the answer on
the tripping of my tongue came to me;
some poetry is meant to be sampled in the mouths of your lovers,
a plum you both tear apart on a sunday, the curve of her neck
when she throws her head back, laughing,
some poetry belongs to your heart in a dark way, some
lives like litter, always pecking and scratching,
i said: if it’s for you, i’ll do it. if it’s for you i’ll get up there and i’ll
finally unlatch my tongue from the roof of my mouth
so that i can tell you all the words that remind me of you, starting
alphabetically
no, i might not be the best poet or the right one and yeah, i guess
i kind of have anxiety
but the truth is that if we turn one heart gold in the world,
isn’t that worth it? isn’t that something?
so you find the person you need to tell something to
even if that person is you
and you make something, taunt entropy. create from nothing.
stand up with your heart shaking and your knees beating,
stand up and say something.
areudirty
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
dailybridgerton
