clean chaos

this connection is fucking chaotic
no, no, it’s not a mess
well, it sort of is, yes
but chaos
as in
my hand is scribbling words faster than it’s used to
and it’s not used to writing anymore
typing is all i do now
“typing…” — a moment of chaos
between me clicking “send” and your name gracing my screen again
“you’re good with words,” you say
“i just want to be good to you”
(without the chaos in my words), i say
and when i am, i am left with
nameless emotions
stranger sensations
a befuddling connection
connection between the brain and the mouth that the heart needs to rein in
but how
when you rain on me
bullets soft and heavy and warm and cool
soaking me
leaving me
wondering
in
rawness
nakedness
wholeness
chaos…
this has stopped making sense by the third line
i have stopped trying to make sense after my third attempt at a poem
about
the electricity you bring
the notes you sing
the light you are
how right you are…
if this is a mess
then i’m here
i’ve cleaned up
i’m clean, i’m here.

— 022618