nyucatherine

conduit

i’m trying to exhaust
this constant stream
of words and thoughts and lyrics and emotions
running through my head
once they’re on paper
its like i can give them a home
but i’m tired of being the link
the conduit
betweent he unconscious and conscious worlds
i’d like to be a person
not a channeling device
i’d like to be able
to contain my emotions
rather than having to give them titles
i always feel like i’m being used
a mirror
or a shadow
or a conduit
can this constant stream of words, words, words
be mine
i feel like there must be another source
my fountain, my well
cannot run that deep
maybe whenever someone dies
their last thought becomes my first verse
“last night,” “right in the crook of your neck”
their last subconscious utterance
is transferred to me
so i can give it voice
i have to tell people they loved
i have to finish their final verbal battle
i must resolve their dying emotion
and i am their conduit

i am a slave to myself
my soul keeps breaking more of my walls
thrusting emotions forth
making them materialize
making them manifest
and each cryptic clue
gradually becomes more honest
i must be truthful
to rid myself of this
this poetry
this emotion
this task
this duty
this position
as their conduit