Exposure

My writings are lame to me when it's too fresh, the images of reality still vivid in my mind overpower whatever i could write of it, obviously reality is the best, i transcend my feelings along it, what runs through my body at the moment i live is way beyond any attempt to put it on paper or draw words on, i have to let it slip away, a little or longer, lose the state, fall back in waiting and triviality, then i can read it again and its strenght takes over me, i'm inactive but i live anew the scene, i regard it smart in the details, sharp in the senses, pretty in the accuracy, profound in the meaning, and a small slice of the intensity shakes me out of the bordedom, it's almost insignificant compared to the initial feeling but i have a better view on the difficulty to write something deep and moving, and if, me, usually so critic on everything i do, i can, even slightly, pull me out to praise, cast a little shine on my self perception then i'm glad, i'm not totally useless of transcribing my fellings into words.
What i wrote is mainly strong and edgy, violent and tense, dark and touchy, i think, but i swear to everyone reading me, what's in my head, what pounds my muscles when i feel is way beyond of anything i can lay down in black letters.

My feelings are too strong that's why it spills over and i display it with all the means to my disposition, playing tricks and control, but keep in mind people that it's hard for me to confess and that what goes through me is stronger and higher than what it seems, if you think my writings already go too far, just imagine where my mind goes when i feel directly on the moment, love and hate are the two wings of my swirling torments.