I'm a Mess

For real

Words touch

And turn with enough torque

To twist my conscious into

A

Dis. Formed

Figure of

Former sense making reality

Really

She held the keys

Meaning

She could abruptly

Walk into me

And

My locks have been the same for years

No changes

There’s been hurt and anger building

Like communal blocks

And still...

Here Ms. Lady

Here are the keys

..controlled

Emotions lacked the…

Space to grow

I was making room

I’ll admit

The pace was slow

But

My emotional packages are heavy…

…Bare with me please.

I’m not posing  when standing still

Ice grill and all

Like, for real

I’m reflecting on my life

You can see it on my face

This shit is ill..

But still..

I picked a corner

In my space

To cultivate us

And

At times it gets cramped

That’s because we’re pushing past bullshit

The same shit that you walked past

When you came in..

I’m filled with portions of sin

Less the portions that

Actually hold weight

And

Make your hair stand on end

I, need you..

I need you to pardon the mess,

These boxes are on their way out.

(c) Chris Styles / Pieces of a Man 2011