Painstaking Editing Poem by Julia Luber

I can't clean it up. It's too exacting and nerve wracking and hard on
the eyes…to go back in there, correcting little letters, resetting a formatting
that is not even shown by the text box. I can't put myself through that
winced anal tweaking process. My brain squints. Not winks but squints.
The power of the poem starts to turn into a kind of squirmy discomfort
like brain freeze but one of a cruel perfectionist super ego- turning a
bellowing freeing cry into a painstaking judged sense of confinement
and pain. Yes, I want it to look different. Sure, I want it to have no spelling
errors the first time out. Damn, I don't understand the formatting tricks
here on PoemHunter, where my poem did not structure like that in the
text box. NO, I can not go back in and correct it and don't know what mood
I will have to be in to dot my eyes and cross my t's. I want to stick with my
happiness now that somebody liked it and gave it a glowing review. I want
to stick with my sense of exhaling in relief. Not get all worked up in leather
bondage and a whip while I squeeze myself into some latex that could kill me
if I gained any more weight than I already unfortunately have. I can not clean
it up. I am sorry if there are a couple of stumbling blocks. I just can't go back.
Not yet. Maybe someday. When the time is right. I fear to think what would
put me in the mood to do that! I fear to muse that one right now.