eyes closed [2]

all right, here we go, again, no, this is not just again, because i carry a message, this is a challenge, to all those who compose, to those who accept the fight with this existence to search until the nails bleed and the eyes are sore and the dogs are broken and the sled needs fixing and the trail is shattered and the mosquitoes are being followed by crawling things, the proposition that i have with me is the following, dash, hyphen or whatever, because i can’t find it, or rely upon my memory to know that i have pressed it, you go with the eyelids down, the blackness in front, only the fingers doing the perceiving, maybe as the music’s going, maybe as you’re coasting onna little something you’ve put into your system, maybe as you’ve come from a day of trying to get a little better at whatever it is you do, maybe as a student or professional, house chump or worldly adventurer, oh, what was i saying, ah, yes, you keep gong, let me hear your voice, let the world see how you spit and rhyme, let my flow go against yours, let the rivers collide, let the giants take out the clubs that move like daggers and dance like swords, authenticity defined, used, because as my writer friend once said, authentic is the least authentic word, yea, do you need to know how to type with your eyes closed, and does that limit the amount of people that can partake in the competition, the madness, the sluggings away of thoughts and rambles, the suckings of those who hope or have not failed enough and the spontaneous symphonies of the masters, Lahiri,  oh, my dear Kalanithi, how you would have humbled us here, you get the point, but that’s fine; not everything is for everybody, and honestly, if you can’t type with your eyes closed, you’re probably a chump anyway, just kidding, my mom isn’t a chump, but it’s pretty cool, so take a typing class, go back to high school or something, and that’s the idea, you let your words go, unchain the demons and the spirits, see what comes unto the página, you can pause, deliberate, wait, but do not open your eyes, not until the finish, from go to end, keep the darkness as your privileged guest, and spit divine lines, miserable catastrophes, whatever it may be that comes to be in those moments that you take to show us your voice, how you poetry, no, that wasn’t a mistake, how you play with the language, where you are in your trajectory, but don’t hide what you think is not true or what brings you shame, or try not to, or try not to be so afraid to let the people, let this cosmos of cosmology, be witness to that which you are, the emptiness is shared, check out Nagarjuna, and this means no more or less than the flight of a petal or the colors of the sunset, so breathe, compose, and when you have finished, open your eyes, correct the mistakes, that is, unless you type perfectly, you’ll have made some mistakes; to respect the craft, and be professionals, and be honest, i need to say that because in this society professionals aren’t expected to be honest, and simply go back and revise the mistakes, the red lines, the repeated commas and misspellings, and then hit publish, or send that comment; every post you can try to send a flow that is more ripe, a water that is more pristine, a dope that is doper, but don’t get your hopes up, lo más proabale es que tengo más sabor que tú, y es mejor aceptar eso desde el principio, me entiendes?

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