Slam

I am
A broken record
Skipping
And spitting out nonsense…
My rhythm of speech like a metronome…
You’ve seen my kind before.
I complain too much
I blow things out of proportion
I refuse to remember those outside of my small bubble

I am
The walking epitome of PMS
My heart’s beating like a hammer
And pumping propane
And insane tendencies in my spider web veins
My temper is a time bomb
One false step
And spontaneous combustion
Throwing you down to your knees

I am
A self-absorbed hypocrite
Self-righteous and ego-inebriated
Showing no consideration for other’s pain
Answering no one
Yet questioning everyone
I emit my precarious ravelings
Like a fast paced talking distorted drivel
Calling it consciousness

I am
The queen of hearts
Mixing hidden conspiracies
With my own delusional inadequacies
While trying to convince you
That all of this is art
But since you’re still here
Make yourself at home and please,
Tell me again what a nuisance I’ve become

I am
A lost cause
An artist who has no inspiration
An imposter
Limited in rhetoric
Belligerent and foul
One dimensional and closed minded
Performing a little tap dance on your soul
I guess this poetry thing isn’t me

I am redundant
Indecisive out loud but set minded inside
My words are aimless
And they show I am incapable
My weakness is heard when I scream
Unfettered thoughts distorting me
And my stream of thinking
My subconscious is the remnants after an atomic bomb
And I don’t dare extend an invitation

I am daughter
I am sister
I am love and loss
I am bitter
I am complex
I am wisdom
I am idiocy
I am surviving
I am human.