i wish i knew how to tell truths
that nobody already knew.
i wish i knew how to say things
that burned off people's skin
and drew new valleys between the creases of their brains.
my writing is one part words that someone has already invented
one part punctuation that i lapped off the pages of my favorite novels
and one part dead skin fallen from my fingertips.
i wish you knew that there is no secret ingredient.
i wish you knew that there is only one story
(ask every english professor and they'll tell you the same).
i wish you knew that a poem is less an itch waiting to be scratched
and more a hangnail that you gnaw at until its raw.
the satisfaction of catching it between your teeth
is almost overpowered by the pain it leaves behind,
and no matter how you try to rid yourself of it
it inches back every time.

i hate to state the obvious
but i am weak to my impulsivities.
(there i go again
telling you things you already know).
please just humor me for a moment
because i'm afraid that if the days of my life were played side by side
you'd think you were watching the same tape ten thousand times.

maybe my poetry is obscure
because i am hoping you won't notice the truth
buried between the excess words.
i think if i were to write a book of poems
it would have to be under a pseudonym
or at least be published in a country where i have no friends.
by all means, reveal my name once i'm dead.
i'd love to see the look on all your faces
when you finally figure out the truth.