back pocket lint

I've got this silly little notebook that I carry around that I'll often times scribble words into. It's kind of funny, because a percentage of the time (albeit a small one) these words come to the page in a vomitus mess. There's something about these writings though that reel me back in, maybe I'm trying to figure out a better way to write them. Keep in mind that for me, everyday is a constant struggle to get words right. More on that later. I think for the most part, I just love/hate them, there's a good idea in there somewhere but I've not been able to find that cohesiveness that I'm looking for.

I guess that fact leads me to another thought I had about the point of all this. I sat pondering earlier how many people actually get something out of anything I've written. I came to the conclusion that it really doesn't matter. I figured that at a minimum, 75%-83% of the energy I spend writing poetry, or whatever else, is solely for me. Sorry, I hope I'm not bursting any snot bubbles here, but I guess the best way to describe this whole project, is simply (for lack of a better word) a project. Maybe I'm testing myself. Maybe the only way I'll sleep at night is if I get this stuff outta my head. I think I just needed something else to do. An experiment! I like that better.

Anyway.

I wrote a poem a long time ago that I'm not so sure about. It's a little 5th grade, (eeeewwww, you just got dissed, man that was cold) for me, but, I suppose the world still has 5th graders in it.

(more stinky ones to come soon)

On Criticism:
Does your addiction
lead to an affliction
of your health?
Mine doesn't!
I speak Opinions
to a Rhythm,
it's not a sign of wealth.
Let me make a correction,
The assignment was
to spark a connection.
it was conceived
to provoke a reaction.
One mans trash,
another mans treasure.
So I haven't given
you any pleasure?
I should try better.
Before I go,
I should ask you though,
What do you find brilliant?
Would you grace us with your presence?
Don't stand on the fence.
This is your chance.
What's that soft aroma I perceive?
Could it be the "scent" of jealousy?
You should get back to me.
On second thought: Don't!
I'll rest easy.
I've already buried those demons.