holy, water

sometimes i

get mad that

i’ve made some

wrong and worthless words

that are in the worthless and wrong order

because they go on too long

and i am reminded that

out there somewhere

it all already exists

i just need to find a way

to bring it back from disorder

to write in spite of writing

and the spit of it

that makes me drool dumb

over this wronged worthlessness

where saliva is salvation

the baptism in oneself

for oneself to write

the worthy and wrong

*

my nerves weigh

me down with thoughts

of what i could be

if i just stripped

this real world that feels

fake until i wore myself

down

hands to nubs

nubs to lubs

just a heart that

doesn’t beat all that well

without the whole around