confession [fear words]

I fear the words.
 I fear their definitions.
  I fear what this makes me, and
      I fear, this makes me something worse than what those words could ever make me.

outcast, loner, freak, loser, lazy, shy, weirdo.
those I'm not afraid of
or, perhaps, merely don't mind.
maybe those I even chase after, as they have been made
      fashion, of sorts:
        gems to hang upon a the gentle crooks of a "quirky" personality.

but. I am not quirky.
  I have no soft spurs, but silver hooks
    ten inches long and made of steel.
I have hidden razorblades between my wings.

so no, not quirky,
   not really, but I am, atimes...

{pause while the poet draws in a shivering terrified breath}

- psychotic
- delusional
- non-verbal
- sensorially overloaded
- specially interested
- hyperfixated
- hyperfocused

...countless others.
I am --
  the word hesitates,
   curl up on my tongue and hide beneath it,
  beneath a tidal wave of trepidation.

but here is the truth:
  my timidity will fail. (such a thing is never sustainable.)
      the words will flourish like hellebores amidst the snow in my mouth,
      and they will nourish themselves on the remains of my fear.

we will both blossom like full moonrises, like a crashing crescendo,
      most atypically.

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