I. Regular.

I have always been a side street away from normal

But I never knew it as a condition

Until the day the doctor’s clipboard

Labeled me like a prescription I didn’t ask for

Plastic bracelets slapped on wrists too many times to count

Reminding me of my own name in case I forget

In one of those small moments where my internal rhythm is absent

Because this seemed like a sentence to life on death row

Because it started with ‘no more caffeinated drinks or sleeping late’

And ended with bloody self portraits while just trying to get ready for school

My heart is romantic without being logical

Skips steps one through five

And goes to straight to six to get my fix of emotional ecstasy

Because it believes in romantic comedies

And Gyllenhall fantasies

And skips one beat

My heart is an army general

Ordering drum lines to play empty cadences

Because I feign for peace leaf victory

But skip the battle

If the other man knocked me down I’d stay on the ground

Because my heart is peaceful sound

And skips two beats

My heart is suicidal each time it cuts me from the inside

Because it won’t let me be normal for two seconds

And it fulfills the duties on its job application

By reminding me of feelings wasted

Each time it skips a beat

Irregular

i.                     Regular.

Ireg. Ular.

Me .

I live in this obscenity

With a heart that takes control of me

Until I finally found the beauty

My heart is a notebook filled with unlined paper

 and my blood beats through each line; an aortic rhythm.

 I am poet. Check my cardiology.

Because in each kilamanjaro line

You’ll only find

That I exist on irregular beats

That my flow comes from inside of me

Inward cardiology

That without irregularity

My rhymes would be common time

Because I possess a poet’s heartbeat

And beauty comes from

I.                    Regularity.