I Wish You Knew

You made me fear it.
You made me fear what words
would come from me and whether
they'd be good enough. Until it turned out
I had no words good enough, not for nothing,
not for love, you made me fear making.
Now I fear making love
with words. Now I fear my brain's
taken a moment off every ten seconds.
Now I fear there's nothing in my head
anymore that doesn't get blip. Blip.
Blipped once a minute and the real poem's gone.

I took these little green pills so long.
Now I fear I'm not yet thirty but my words
are grown, and lived, and ailed, and died, and gone.
My mind won't latch, won't hold.
It strays like cows grazing, it runs at dazing,
it stops; it dazes. You made me fear
there won't be anything on the next line,
fear I won't finish in time, fear I won't finish
a rhyme, fear I'll rhyme too much and lose
my poet cred. You made me cry
inside my head and I'm
sorry
I'm still
sorry
that there's too many
words
mirrors
ways of seeing
that I don't wish I was blind
I just wish I was a better seamstress
I could sew these words together, I could untatter
the tatter that you made my mind
when you left me to these little green pills
and said, I know, this pain, I know,
but you won't be ill anymore, you'll just
slur a little, you'll just forget a little,
but what's to remember, you have such a small ass
life, you only teach until you're taught to,
there's no reason to worry, it's nothing you'll miss.

I took these pills so long that what was on my skin
is now down in my throat, I stick a finger down,
I gag on words, I wish you knew
what it is to forget to say
I wish you knew
what it is to not have the things
you've played with all your life
I wish you knew this shovel
in my hand, that I'm digging,
I'm digging, it's down deep
in my gullet and what comes up
what comes up
what comes up
may not be friend.