My poetry

My poetry works through me
Like a portal from my subconscious and unconscious
That finds a small exit at the end of my pencil lead
It leads me
There are times when I don’t travel the portal often
Scared of what’s on the other side
But every time I step through its magnet grip
And my mind is stretched and bent similar to a cartoon
I come out a better person
Unknowingly
Sometimes it’s deep
Filled with heat like
“I don’t think I was born underwater with three dollars and six dimes
But I can loan you a dub and 16 nickels to buy a ticket out the past
Now get that!”
And sometimes
Real talk
It’s straight bullshit
But it’s all me
All my poetry