fucking editing

i hate it

i scoff at it

i throw pencils and sock monkeys
at arrogant pink erasers

if i'm not my best in the immediate
if i'm not my most authentic off the tip of my
tongue
then what good am I to anyone?

why does writing make me so angry
why does it make me wanna scream
so much changes when it's just me and the screen

white pixels and blank pages hold no judgement
no fear in losing love
when sharing truth
no fear in having my hand dropped
when being vulnerable

and fuck it all
if i stopped making sense
or rhyming or
if i repeat words in a non artistic
non aurally or orally way

this is me slaming letters down with my fingers
nonsensically
shooting at the stars with a .22
and hoping to knock myself in the head
with some dust and rocks