A poem about Cat Talk*
*also titled: i don’t hate academic writing this much I just
have a lot of feelings... by:Amanda Neumann
You ask me why I can’t express myself in your space,
the ivory tower,
polite conversation space.
The academic space.
The my-professor-makes-sexist-comments space.
The just-work-harder-we’re-all-equal space.
The panic-attack-in-the-bathroom-to-not-cause-ascene space.
The objective space.
You see, spaces like zines exist
because there little room in
your space
for the experiences that need to be expressed
with earthshaking emotion.
Experiences that need to be expressed with
subjectivity,
without rules or guidelines that strangle honesty
to make way for sculpted dishonesties.
Honestly, it is exhausting
searching for ways to make my emotions and
experiences cause other people less discomfort.
I am here to tell you to keep your space.
I have little space in your space.
Fuck your space.
I have made a new space.
And in my space, I bleed on objectivity.
I leak emotion onto pedantic thrones
and spill stardust into
lonely parts of the universe.
Where your space says ‘hold back’
mine screams ‘keep going!’
In my space, I can express myself
with untethered cosmic thoughts—
thoughts comprised flesh and blood,
beauty and disaster,
with experiences and emotions.
And these thoughts are not meant to be hidden,
not meant to be shunned,
they’re meant to be shared.
With anyone, with everyone!
Outside of the ivory tower,
isolation space.
The scholastic space.
The static space.
So, in short, you can have your space.
Your polite conversation, ivory tower space.
It’s a necessary space.
But I needed to carve a small place
in this spectacular universe
where I can write not with stale ink on lined paper
but with fresh blood on passing comets.
I need an impulsive space.
An express-all-your-hopes-and-dreams space.
A incautiously creative space.
A jump-into-a-black-hole-just-to-see-what-happens
space.
A fucking uncensored, dangerously poetic, leaking
with emotion, community space.
A subjective space.
word
radical