I want to control words

I want to bend, break, shake them

mend them, make me 

me

They set me free

these words, these thoughts

these hopes and dreams

I want to create poems so strong that the happy poems make men cry

And the sad poems make me weep

I want to write stories that leave the reader grasping for breath and unable to sleep

for fear of the monsters

I’m sharing, revealing

I want to make readers think they can fly; lead them to the cliff

I want the story to finish 

and I want them to leap

I want to draw pictures with sounds and senses

I want to paint pastel colors with the darkest hues

I want to use verbs and nouns and prepositions as shotguns 

I want to fire at will until the chamber is empty and my nose burns with the scent of raw gunpowder

I want to use keystrokes and ballpoint pens as whips, scourging the words until they beg for mercy

I want to destroy, until I fall to my knees and beg forgiveness for every slaughtered synonym 

I need to write words that release

That echo through my head but retain the secret that makes me

me

I need to attend self-help groups to discover myself, so that I can write what I know

I need to bleed these words, see these words, tattoo these words into my soul until I feel tears

sliding down my cheeks, and I’m heartbroken because every wrong word hurts like the wrong thing said to the wrong person at the right time

I need to write this down, I need to take a moment and just let my fingers talk and my head listen

I should take that fight, or heartbreak, or laughter

my own story, my own poem, my words

My past and future should mix with now to create one last obstacle to overcome,

One word -

me

I want to control words.