intensity

Why do people hide from intensity like it is going to ruin their new sweater?

Am I harshing your mellow? I'm sorry that I am not satisfied by talking about the newest band or the best kind of beer or what celeb is fucking whom.

I want to talk about real shit. My poetry is one of the only ways for me to hang myself on a clothesline and let people watch me dry. I am saturated with intensity, a concentrated mass of color that makes eyes bleed with beauty.

NEWS FLASH! We live in a fucked up world. I want to talk about it. I want to describe how my heart falls out of my chest whenever I see war on television. I want to pour my sensitivity all over people to relieve their dry hearts from starvation. Where is the outrage? where is the empathy?

Yesterday I put my hand on my sister's shoulder while she was crying and I felt her pain transfer into me through my hand. I have the ability to put myself inside other's hearts and sometimes it makes me crumble. I am resiliant and brave but when I have my hand on the world's shoulder, it is too much to bear.

People say I am intense. A euphemism for 'too much' 'too emotional' too serious' tootootootootoo

I hope to be enough. Enough for me, enough for those who see the power in my intensity. Sometimes I feel power flowing through me that feels like magic mixed with madness.

We cannot beat this system until we step up the intensity. Until we get so angry we feel like our veins will burst from our necks and break our cages with loud, raw, INTENSE words. I want to feel freedom explode from my pours and show everyone there is more than the status quo.

I think a revolutionary must have a degree of intensity, or she will fade into the collage of pastel shades.