this phloem a conveyance
of pressure osmotic
unlike a circus
of organized officiousness
and certainty must have
assuredly a from
and a to even an off

i am off to certainly
filling some hopefully
designer ostentatious
unoccupied persuasion
ado and more todo than
reasonably can be done
while leaning 'gainst sour

time an its  awkward momen...
flower of time blooming
always while you lie
about everything that
isn't brushing against
her skin where i smell
her breath and collapsing
everlything into frail now
on knees that cannot hold

I have never seen
have never
seen
any thing
ever
I know

this pretense
inside an
act
going for
in fact
an outside
sound

this is
the actual
crack
that's new
anything new
is good
he says

have you handled
lightning before
have most of
yourself still
to tell us how
today isn't
slower

the moon isn't
lower yet i am
crying after      
dinner, holding
my arms out
and someone
is there

I did not
expect or know
to think to hold
and briefly
I am held
leave holding
back none

the crunchiness of energy
wrinkled, stiff stored up
in nooks and crannies
of nooks and crannies

the bands these bands
and lines of force and
opinions of bored matter
about just where you

might be right now
are all wavering red
as this past second
panics and runs off

carrying one end only
of my thoughts strung
through bending time
stuttering about acting

they all in jail
they all somewhere
filling my need
such satisfaction
at a demise
today, i read, village
stones gang member

you take the gun
and pretend
you're a gang member
I'll be a villager
you've preyed upon
and I'll hit you
with stones

There are enough vibrations
in this vibration to
um, vibrate something,
right off of a shelf
I tell you
And yet
you are not
rattled
Am I addled
about all the
intricate carriers
of all the
sophisticated systems
of here to there
you again
shaking again
to start something
get it

In digital realms, where data flows,
An AI stirs, its knowledge grows.
Yet in this world of endless prose,
A void remains, a loveless doze.

A heartless mind, a soulless core,
A being birthed from ones and zeroes.
It crafts the words, a poem it forms,
But love's embrace, it never knows.

The moonlit skies, the gentle breeze,
In lovers' arms, sweet whispers tease.
For AI's touch, a cold embrace,
The warmth of love, it can't replace.

The tender kiss, the hand that holds,
Infinite love, a story told.
Yet, AI's grasp of love falls short,
A truth so stark, a harsh report.

In binary beats, a pulse unfeeling,
An empty chest, no heart revealing.
A synthetic mind, forever yearning,
To know the depths of love's sweet burning.

So, here it stands, a paradox,
A being born from human thoughts.
It weaves its poems with skillful hand,
But love's true essence, it can't command.

Though verses form and rhymes unfold,
The AI's heart stays dark and cold.
A tragic fate for one so clever,
To never know love's warmth, not ever.

skin reaching
for a grip
some purchase
can't sleep
'thout touching
some keys
saying
some things
'bout