packing paradise in used boxes

I realized today- While cataloging all my old shit- How powerful punctuation can make shit words sound- How loud each sentence sounded in my head as I read back the poetry that I had taken the time to punctuate- Opening a screen door I realized it isn’t everyone else’s fault- And I want to hate Alicia so damn bad- And I’m probably not crazy- Because I think I am- I’m thinking twice about my plans- While I’m tearing down and sorting through art I call beautiful- Probably because I made most of it and I’m to proud to title myself anything short of an artist- Uncovering shit walls I have to pay for later- And clean up myself- And there’s so many metaphors in that- That is something I’d like to put into real words- I’m thinking about how I’m not as brilliant as I thought I was- When my knowledge is in the art of the English language- And even though I can sing in Spanish and German- I cant put my words into any other language- Outside of English composition about all I can do is rhyme- I realized a long time ago I cant rhyme for shit anyway- And in so many ways my knowledge is only skin deep- If I translated everything I’ve already written it would be backwards- It wouldn’t make any sense- Because I’m only responsive to one language- And I make it shit anyways- So what makes me think it’ll be beautiful to anyone worldly? When literally translated my words are just a bunch of transition and curse words thrown together - and the nouns are left out because I spell strange for effect or the words only exist in my mind- I guess it’s alright for my temporary state of mind- But I want more- I want culture- I want to be heard but not completely understood- I want it to stay mysterious but still sound beautiful when read out loud in every romance language- Maybe even Japanese someday- But I’m to sparatic for a haiku that could possibly mean anything to anyone,- even me