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I am allergic,
I keep coming back.
apprehend your own second soul,
it is the back seat driver who makes all wrong turns,
born being upholds the simple truth of being as,
utterly incomprehensible as possible,

verbose and unstated,
skirted around concepts
like drowning dresses that skim the shins,

yet do not apprehend the beauty,
or slim the startling wiles,
for knowledge is a rarity,
and nonsense is a disguise.
skating on a thin shine of ice,
clean metal reflects only sharp eyes,
we know not how to skate,

but we know how to fly.
I marvel at the glassy sheen of auburn eyes,
burning like firestorms of fresh winter hair,
and to entwine with mine is but a gift from,
*there is no godliness, only you, no gifts from god any longer, for I know the true giver of my heart*
mon amour,
je ne sais pas le francais,
mais je vais etudier ca pour tu.
There is a kind world,
beneath the surface of the one we made,

just dig a little.
Just Too Big.

Three words sounds like nothing, but beneath there are fountains of knowledge.

Just- this is the word of no excuse,
it is the finalising phrase,
it cuffs off the gnarled edge of argument,
it stalls and betrays simpering,

Just suggests finality,
it muses over a resolution,
a simplicity,
JUST too big leaves no room for excuses,
no alternatives,
it is a cove,
a cover entrapping the heart,
merciless and without temptation.

Too - it suggests excess,
it reveals a limit,
there are boundaries in this world,
at one point it is not too big,
at one point the line is drawn,
we all step beside the line - either past or before,

there is a quota.

Big - large and luxurious,
grand and reaching,
it is more,
it is much,
it is a caveat of treasured rolls,
big alone is nothing,
big in abstract, in isolation,
shielded in the tight embrace of a vacuum,
is meaningless,
but paired with Just,
paired with finality,
paired with Too,
paired with limits,

Big becomes itself,
and makes a name.

Big begins to suffocate.
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