cubistpoet

I won second place at the slam last night.

Go me!

Here's the revised version of the "I Want You" poem that I actually read

I Hope You're Not Vain If You Think This Poem is About You

I want you,
and not in that collared and chained
leashing up your life and leashing up your brain
kinda way.

I want you,
and not in that fucking you raw
until the morning light and then hopping
the next out-of-town-bound train
kinda way

I want you,
and not in that marble and bronze
statued girlfriend hangin' on my wall of fame
kinda way.

I want you,
and not in that hyper-obsessive
lovey-dovey doey-eyed Disney
ignoring your faults
ignoring your pain
kinda way.

And it's not just your breasts and your brains
though I could play with both for hours.

And it's not your passion and your poems,
though both age the vintage of your soul.

It's just that I love the way you make me feel like
a human being
instead of some logic-bound Turing machine.

It's just that I love the way you read between the lines
of my constant soliloquies before I even begin,
yet make me ride them out to the bitter end.

It's just that I love the way you ramble endlessly
without a drop of remorse
at anything that obstructs the course
of that spark of passion that drives you forth.

And the only flaw to your magic,
the only one fatal flaw to your voodoo
is that I don't know who the pronoun you alludes to.

I don't even know if you exist,
but I will not give in.
I will not give up.
I will not put out.
I will not shut up
until I find you.

Because I wouldn't make me any other way,
and neither would you.