There’s a word stuck in my hand
Like a song in the brain
Or bathing suit sand.

So I write out all I can think
All that feel close anyway
But every attempt just makes it sink.

So don’t mind me if I sound craz-ee
Because I’m not okay, and that’s normal
Or at least it seems to be for me.

Was i a stepping
stone? A little r
                            o
                             c
                           k
                             to get where you
                        are now? Perhaps
                        that must have been
                        fun...
                             ­                                 Maybe our definition
                                                      ­        of fun do not compare
                                                         ­     to be the same now -
                                                                ­                                                          
I used to have fun when
you would be around,
maybe for you too...
but not in the same
way that I found.

It’s hilarious how profound
We think we are, astounding
The masses with our slick
Rhyme and meter shtick.

The small space
People place

Like little things
Easy understanding

But you are more.

I did not conquer you,
If that’s even possible,
I just moved through
Your defense with nibbles
And whispered words like morning dew.

You took me seriously
But laughed at the right times
And I fell from winter easily
To your summer of sweet wine
And love’s epiphany.

Your scent drew me in
Forgive me this clichè
Which I could not keep within
For I am still waiting for the day
We meet and commit sin.

Should your heart be sliced
And veins fill with ice.
Fall not before the myth of vice
Lest your hopes be destroyed twice.

For drugs, lust, and sloth
Merely leave you empty.
It is only like the froth
Atop the waves of emotion let free.

Lightning and ants
In limbs and in mind.
Like fire up the spine
Or aforementioned bugs in pants.
I’ve got no chill
No glass left fill.
It’s like this need to dance
Electric shock
A tick with no tock.
But reality won’t grant
The end to need
Or greed
The root to plant.