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I’m too sentimental. I can’t wander back through the memory lanes without feeling like it’s bleeding out of me. All the tender memories slowly drains out my color at night, only for sleep to bring a transfusion. All these small things shouldn’t matter so **** much but still it does. I think, that's the cruel fact of being sentimental much.
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
Vivi Greene
a hot, steaming coffee,
a deliciously soft and sweet cake,
relaxing music in an
urban café.
that's where I write
my poetry.
 Apr 2017 Andrew Name
Vivi Greene
an inner tree
rooted deep down in my body
keeps me going.
it is what some describe as
inner peace,
true happiness,
the source of love,
and I describe as
strength to deal
with everything that is not.
Either cured all my cancer
Got a brain eating algae
Or something in between
Too familiar to be close.
Just dead enough inside
to be my ghost
and you haunt me.
But you don't live like a jellyfish
in my throat...  but your tendrils
have a purpose
and they glow in the dark
when i choke
when you taunt me.

it's the real thing baby
now that we're broke.
now that the ocean prays for rain
and the scorpion sings
while the scarecrow
smokes the red sparrows
and all the long day siege
like an anvil
crushing the lost things mostly
but you forget how to breathe
on a Wednesday
because your Tuesday
was all she wrote
then I lost me.

now I haunt Me.
There's something so
t    n    l
    i     g    y

and
beautiful
about him being in a forbade love.
Something that replaces the salt of the sea
with the salt of tears both happy and sad
There's something so
c o m f o r t i n g
and
amazing
about being able to feel
that someone will love you always
no matter the disapproval
*lets view this love in a different way
Keep your foot on the gas
Your heart on the brake.

return your map
to it's original destination...

the mad rhino
of your naivete, churning -
heresies
that remove
the mundane
carols
in the vault of
all choirs;
tongue kissing the Pegasus
of polyamorous
glints from god's
monocle

flanking the herd
of Gnostic Ferraris,
chewing the soft shoots of bonsai prairie
roaming the banquet
of aimless,
refreshing the lady's goblet
of godsmack
as naturally a termite
loathes a Queen that can't remember
your name
because she hates
your father...

miles and miles of
pink

accumulate the misfits of your jigsaw.
gaining on the horizon
of your blindspot
feels like an Ecstasy of Selfishness
baptized in chrysanthemums
of compassion.
whose pollen makes a black honey
that fills the gap
between the smell of a baseball glove
and  third degree burns
from your heart's
desire.

you are pilgrim charmed, out in the open heart of serene surgery, on an errand, poppies fed to destiny
on pillows of rice and grey Callings...
you are tapping the apocalypse of previous Edens
witness to the birth of a vague distinction
between your honest mistakes and god's love in the 23rd row,  catching the school play
you wrote in the margins of your error.
a fruit bat with scurvy on picture day... fanning a Polaroid of Duration
in kabuki.

your car, a Chinese beetle hugging the asphalt Rhine of a Blue Melon
tilting on the axis
of an early spring...
your windshield, yielding
with honor
to savage blows
from sunsets
that milk
nightfall.

   mecca, entangled in your dead sea sonnets
is the hole in your shoe
where moons clog
and first steps shave
their heads, smooth

hiking on four wheels , approaching the true form of an open question
head out the window across from mirage with spin in it's teeth.
facing the jasmine of bittersweet typhoons
inking henna tattoos
on both arms
of stopped clocks...

like kudzu, in a difference engine, coiled around a spark

like a widow 'round a foggy recollection of her true love
39 pixels
of a better half
that made you
whole.
I am not
the prettiest girl
or the sexiest

not the smartest
or most talented

but I am a unique
array assembled
of whozeewhatsits

(razor blade analogies
fluorescent petal lips
coloring book flips shifting
hues and lines in real time
intense passion pigments
softened by maniacal sillies
black glitter, tears, tongue, teeth
synaptic syntax screams
billowing belly cavern
sacred swallows swimming
serifs seeping thru sweat
into fluffiest warm cotton
pinksugar dewbloom)

that will render
equivalent yet opposing
inverted complementary
juxta pair of anglepants

exquisitely speechless
with sheer me-ness

hallow mirrors blinding
four egoic eyes igniting
incinerating the dim

and in that stillness
I will feel their them
and feel it feeling
my me

betwixt twisting
our empty brimming
with eternity

...

or maybe
that happened

already
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