Birthing Poetry

You have to live life to write life

But I've been too busy living to be writing

Feeling emotions instead of creating them

Igniting the party instead of celebrating them

I'm wearing the dress instead of addressing the hem

and I'm not sure what will stem from these unkept seams

Because my reality has been sleeping with my dreams

Searching for myself instead of finding it

I'm falling 

Free falling 

Free

And my only parachute is me

But versions of myself managed to flee

The one who wrote with her heart

Instead of wore it on her sleeve

And I can't breathe

Only inhale

Because sharing everything is getting stale

Taking in the takeover

Because who the fuck wants to sleep during a sleep over

Or hang during a hang over

I just want to be the poetry

Not write it

And aspirations tell me to fight it

This urge to be the art

Not create it

Desire is potent because you can never sate it

I shift

I drift

Catch a whiff 

Of inspiration

Dabble in deliberation

And sit

Here

Beside my fear

That the words echoing off my finger tips

Won't be as good as the one that dripped off my lips

Last night

Because when I stand under the spotlight

Mine is dying

Frying under the pressure

To impress her

The me that hates herself 

That knows no satisfaction

Fame or wealth

That puts poems on the shelf

Never to be published

Because they aren't damn good enough

That stuffs my sentiments

Like sediments

Clogging my veins

Compressing my brains

Ripping the reins

Putting a hole in self control

Saying that even though it doesn't reach the ceiling

The mic is still a pole

And stripping is just ripping your self respect

You know you don't need to be so direct

Let everyone expect your most private thoughts

Give them a chance to take the most brutal shots

You can't complain someone got under your skin

When you're the one who let them in

So is it such a sin to resist the wish to do more than exist

And just be

Take it in and see

Instead of birthing poetry?