She is the type of person you may only meet a few times in your whole life;
always in brief encounters.
The type of person you could fall in love with in a heartbeat,
who opens up a world you didn't know existed.
You may catch her doing something mundane -such as filling a kettle-
and that's all it takes to fall in love again.
And if you're careful, very careful, you'll still recognise yourself when she leaves.
Because she will leave.
She is the sweetest poison and the body has habits of flushing out toxins.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A
bone
slowly
woke
just
in
time
to
become
br­ok(en).
Once spoken,
there's no point
of lending an ear.
There'll be a violent
jerking of the wheel,
deceptive *** appeal,
and an unrequited (love).
Now, unwillingly,  it's open.
The rhyme is deliberately late,
but it's not tardy enough to satiate
Swelling lungs-we're just getting started.
Both for respiratory and broken-hearted.
Here, we speak of energy-specifically kinetic
Because you can't live in love and good faith
with right hemisphere real, and left prosthetic.
AND THAT'S WHERE THIS BEAUTIFULLY KICKS IN.
Picking up faster and quicker and clearer
and headlights have never come nearer.
But I'll be somewhat content lying at rest.
While lively and enthusiastic is best,
unemployed potential is all I can be.
It's something to unwillingly see.
You'll watch the clean breaks
as the marrow escapes.
As I steadily gush
onto pavement
you'll see
how
idle
I
can
really
be.
As
I

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

There are constellations between your teeth and you have starlight wrapped around your tongue, there is moonlight in your eyes but sunlight in your smile
Every time you breath you inhale glitter and oxygen and powdered sugar, the scent of grass and strawberries and hope
Flowers bloom between your ribs and wind through the joints in your hips, your knees, your wrists
There is a whole menagerie in your stomach, butterflies and pelicans and Bengal tigers
Your skin is crushed velvet, silk and lace, encasing a skeleton of steel and iron, silver filigree
Your hands are soft as cotton, rose petals, strong as the will of all your ancestors.
When you die you will melt back into the earth, disintegrate and fall back to where you came from
You will be absorbed back into the atmosphere and the universe will swallow you up.
It will rearrange your atoms and produce something completely you but completely different.
You are one of a kind, you are the entire universe.
You will never be again, but you will never stop being.

A horizon and a half to see-
he's putting mind over matter,
and I think it might matter.
But how is one to find out?

Does the Jellyfish not sting,
or the caged bird sing?

My answers are not confident,
despite some marvelous attempt.
I'm still held in contempt
over a crime drowned below the surface.

She raised the platform, fortunately.
And unfortunately,
she was only there hypothetically.

(She still has no idea

…

okay, I ate the last chocolate.
***** me.)

Next time,
I'll catch you if you fall.
And cage you if you sing.

We're drowning in our own thoughts
We're self obsessed and have high expectations
Remember nothing we aim for will ever reach perfection
But it can sure reach your own definition
Your own definition of greatness