Abbstracted Mind

Heart aches. We all live it at least once. It comes in different forms.

One can be heart broken by disappointment that a family member caused us.

One can also experience the classic one where the girlfriend leaves the boyfriend who is in love.

What does one do with that heartache?

a lot turn it into a shadow. A shadow of the self. He may seek other women with no intent of ever seeing them again or she might get a new haircut and go out on the town.

Some turn it into art. A rap about how she broke your heart now you're tore apart.

or a canvas painting of a broken heart bleeding from every artery.

Some turn it into poetry.

I’m mostly on instagram and TikTok nowadays as @ABBSTRACTEDMIND 

that would go the extra mile for you

A woman that is aware of your traumas

So instead of resurfacing them

She drowns them for you

With laughter and hugs and kisses

A woman that prepares your meals with love

She makes sure it's perfect

So that you get all the nutrients you need

And your only worry is your goal

A woman that is brave enough to speak up

For you and for herself

A woman that during intimacy

You can melt her toughness away

But you're busy chasing what you WANT

Your comfort is toxicity

I am kickdrum and layman.

I am cancerous: a disastrous

beauty mark. I’m multiplying

Mandelbrots through a sieve of errors,

devil-may-care. In the abyss

of my mouth is a tryst,

a tongue-in-cheek. I am

infinite jest, garrulous with silence.

My heart is a wound

from battering through prison walls

called rib cages

guarding red herrings

called hearts.

I’m sojourn and pseudo.

I’m inverse and contrarian.

I’m cartwheeling

on a crow’s wing, wringing

and wrought with seeking

for Coyote’s trickster tactics.

I am gutter and howl, cutter

and caw. My jaw

is hinged like a snake’s.

you’d do well to steer clear,

better still, follow in my wake.

I’m the slayer of Armageddon,

the murderer of the apocalypse. When I meditate,

a dragon leaps from the cup of my neck.

I catch it with my teeth.

Such a bloody, bloody thing,

clipping yokes the size of culture

eating its own tale.

I’m treason and dissimulation.

I’m crossroads. I’m the long road

winding through the green guts of God,

subsuming all paths, usurping all thrones.

My mouth is the past, my tongue

is the next generation laughing

despite you, and in spite of your

attempted ecocide.

I am Dionysus in the throes

of vivisection. I am a Disaster Shaman

riding a pale green horse named Providence.

The four horsemen are eating my dust.

My soul is flapping behind me

like a cape. My right hand a red herring.

My left an inverted bow.

I am counting coup. I am in the throes

of burning down unsustainable cities

and planting gardens in the ashes.

I will stick to you like molasses.

I’m your inner-child’s temper-tantrum

kicking you in the shins.

I am your means-to-an-end