Do you ever think
about becoming
someone new?
About unmaking,
Recreating,
Partaking,
In the life of someone -anyone-
Who isn’t you?

Hours and hours and days and weeks and months and years
I perfected, rejected, resurrected the art
of becoming someone new.

In mere moments,
a new me.
a new world.
a new dream.

A world to be anyone
or go anywhere
Or be anything.
When I just
Don’t want
To be
Me.

New demons and angels,
New shadows and suns,
New curves and new angles,
New characters
to become.

A world not like
my own.
The trees are paper.
The people move with a blink.
Grass is woven from knowledge and
Leaves are sprouting from ink.

There I go
at a moment’s notice.
Diving, delving, digging.
Revealing
an impossible time.
Where the improbable, inconceivable, unimaginable, unthinkable
occurs every
Other
Line.

I am disappearing into the books.
Invisible to the world.
Unmaking myself,
Recreating myself,
And becoming someone new.

"I wanna tell you , but I can't. I mean I could, but I won't. You won't understand".

(And wonder why you're not fulfilled. You right I won't understand)

One size never fits all
She hates when I suit her perfectly
And make her feel regular

If I don't make her feel special or unique she doesn't feel oblique
She hates when things are even
Even when she's a believer

She's acknowledges that I'm a great guy
She says that she know I have good intentions
And that I am careful
And cheerful
Which makes her fearful
And even more tearful

She is more comfortable if the fit is snug or skinny
Boot or loose

Just right do not compliment her curvaceous past experiences

She said that in past experiments
She was always wrong when she thought a guy was just right

So now she like them to come scuffed, cut-up, dingy and stained

The defects don't allow their incapabilities to turn into pain

They are now ruined from the time she run into them in the isle, so when they happen to be foul she just wince with a owww
"If I flood her with love she's bound to drown"

She once told me that I was "too good to be true"
She stated how she feels "that if I feel too good about something that's a bad sign"

And I just feel that I came into her life at a bad time
If she would have been tried me on she would still be comfortable
Me and her
...
Her favorite pair

Now she stay with bags in her hands as if she have eight legs
A pair for any day and any way that she feels

I left the rack, but she didn't remove my tag, then she kept the receipt to return me back
...
My kind is that neat pile
My kind is out of style

The day the calves arrived was my favourite. We put them in our shed full of straw. They were skinny and looked unbalanced on top of their long, bony legs. They smelt like a dry room in winter, of vanilla cake and damp straw and droppings. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind.

I came in early every morning to feed the calves. I measured them and mixed water into powdered milk. They fought fiestily over the feeder, nudging each other crudely to secure the last few drops of milk. I put my hands out to calm them, and they latched onto my fingers with their mouthes, thrusting with their tongues, desperate for the milk I had spilt on my hands. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind.

I groomed them and let them drag me around the oval when I took them for a run.
Although I could barely keep up with their childlike bounding, I felt exhilarated and could not stop laughing. At the end of the day I'd lead them back to the shed and play with them. I took a pitch fork and scooped up the soiled straw for the compost and replaced it with clean straw. Of course, the smell wasn't pretty. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind.

On the weekend we met outside the sheds in our overalls and boots. It was cold and early, and the teacher was late. The other kids moaned about having to be there just to get "a stupid grade".  I didn't care about the grades. I would have loved to have slept in, but I didn't mind.

The teacher finally arrived and put on her suit. She unlocked the shed and we were engulfed with the warmth and soft yellow light, the air scented by the sweet vanilla-like aroma from the powdered milk. I walked over to bid the calves good morning. One was nuzzling at the face of the other.

She was dead.

Natural causes apparently. I retched, but the other kids didn't mind.

I would get down on one knee for you,
but instead I get down on two,
I have a greater need for you,
like no other human could.

You can make me weep,
you hinder my sleep,
you have destroyed my appetite for human meat,
at night I clench my pillow and my sheets.

You have a power beyond compare,
it's in the auburn highlights of your hair,
under the surface I've found it there,
and it's disguised by your smooth tinted skin.

There is something there deep inside,
so beautiful i cant describe,
to most it's unreadable in your eyes,
but me I'll love you till I die.

One third brown of the the earth,
two thirds green of the trees,
an amber twist is what I've seen,
you are the lady of my dreams.

Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married?  Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.