Finding Myself

Struggle in Finding Myself …

I keep searching and flirting with that version of me,

that person, the grind, a thermos of caffeine.

In the palms of my hands these rings full of keys,

a research perspective from the depths of hades.

I search for reprieve, and my need to succeed,

in this burning conceit, resurfaced with speed,

with my circuits still burning like a burden I keep.

God’s plan I reworked it the mountains were steep

Through the foothills I creeped as the mind ever sweeps

My facades I presented were tarnished and cheap

In circles from me is this penance so deep,

And rebirth, still a treasure, like a goal I can’t reach.

This ride, bittersweet, as I’m still incomplete

I’m under this banner, “Only God Judges Me.”

 

Don’t mock me, my chief, at least I cry when I sleep

The wells still run deep with emotions I reap.

Yet still I’m bereaved like a furnace, No heat,

like a nervous tick with no purpose

Like a cervix won’t bleed, and the baby is breached

With my heart on my sleeve and these tears on the surface

It’s proof that I’m worth it in this circus with curtains

of the life that I preach, and ideals that I keep.

Is the oven replete? Where I cook all these verses,

with the burners on high and the flames as the heart

in the words of this furnace, and they are my purpose.

I’m nervous this person I’m working is hurting

Uncertain the garden is free from the serpents

And the furnace won’t reach me in time to resurface

 

My time now to grieve ‘til I summon my versions

And give them that purpose to fight like a nerve would

When attacked by a virus overcome it and purge it

To split the disturbance like helix sequence to nurses

Precise like a surgeon; more magic than merlin,

So I can cut to the chase, or chant words like a sermon

Can I breathe this emergence, where this world is imperfect,

And imperfect is perfect, and perfect is worth it.

But these demons I flirt with, they make me so nervous

act up at the wrong time, like a Walking Dead carcass

Grunting and wordless, and their company worthless

But to keep them around that would be a disservice.

Trouble is as this worsens with their coming emergence

I’m being overthrown like the Jews with the Germans

But is certainty certain, and earnest to surfeit?

So because this shit worsens do I need to be certain,

When the curtains surmount us, where defeat was a preface,

Surprisingly upbeat, in defeat I am breathless

When I sold all my heartbeats, where the devil in hell lives

his pen in his presence and he name signed in cursive.

A menace to essence, my existence was selfish

My words had no premise, when I stood on that terrace

and recited my penance, said I had to be better,

have my message strike terror and to have better substance,

Mental temples unfettered with lyric endeavors

The pencil now sharpened the lead fresh as ever

Now to bring all my muses and versions together

The versions the persons I left here untethered.

 

A glutton for somethings like justice or run-ins

dwarf titans for nothing no troubles discussing

the sad repercussions how my life was disgusting

I was drinking and drugging and I thought about jumping

How I cried in the corner, how the thought of that sunk in

Now I’m hunting to toughen this outer obstruction

To chisel my functions, to absorb all the punching

But my hands have these bruises like my own self-made Judas

my excuses kept coming and the truth kept corrupting

with demons to stomach I continued to hustle

Forgetting my muscle how the memory stumbled

And the struggle was doubled, sanity’s what I covet

On that day with the trumpets, when the angels as puppets

Rain the ether in buckets, when the stars fall and plummet

To the room I am summoned, stand alone as a compass

Redirecting the humbles, with my soul in the rumble,

Reflecting rebuttals; stood tall in the rubble,

I’m rebuilding the puzzle, once again to the struggle

since life is a struggle and how you rebuttal

the struggle becomes you.

 

My whole goal as this poet, put your mind into orbit

Share the gift as I know it; put some joy to your organs

The sky limits, we know it, in this world’s moral chorus

Though my wits need to sharpen my thoughts need to harden,

The pen hits will hearten in this “How Will I Grow” flick,

I take pardon for the tricks and the low kicks

Never saw them as a problem but as I grow quick

I notice, while starving without option

I darkened, no bargains where I march in

Put them first, more important

As the margin for my profit target is shortened

The misfortunes of fortunes enormous

Meet mothers with kids on milk cartons

I hardened and forfeited to distortion’s importance.

 

I marched in the garden of serpents

And flirt with the work in the core of my shirt

While being a servant of fervencies’ learning

when I hit dirt, my feet off and their running

as I bleed and exert with the feelings

of millions of people who are feeling the hurt.

So I heard as this permanence worsens

And I interpret these curses as curses

That sooner or later if I continue these verses

That people will feel it, all up in their dermis

And these sermons I continually immerse in

Will serve as a service to furnish your furnace

But you all know where church is

And the fact that you need it when hurting

As a being who’s perfectly perfect

with being a being who’s perfectly imperfect

Just understand one thing, I don’t attack you

Unless you attack me, it’s inertia.