when sitting at your desk
you experience hypesthesia
from being to statuesque
it's called paresthesia

don't want to swear
by yelling out bollix
take it out with blare
or a string called grawlix

do you have that tickling
feeling on your niddick
don't know that christening
it's your nape to be specific

going into winter sun
that soft warm felicity
experienced by everyone
that is called apricity

and if you are to love,
love as the moon loves;
it does not seal the night-
it only unveils the beauty
of the dark.

I don't believe in soul mates
What I do believe in
Is people that connect
On some deeper level
Immediately upon acquaintance
And not meaning you agree
On where to eat for dinner
But the connection where your heart
Seems to slip out
Of your rib cage
Because it's found a home
Outside of your chest.

A little fox,
two mice,
a white cat,
a chick
and a tiny bat

accompany
our way

and even if we stray
again

they'll find us

and- with paws and fur and tiny noses-

redirect

our clumsy
human feet.

glass of apple juice
wonderfully nostalgic
you're sweet and smooth