"Uuh, dude, your Hubris is showing.
Watch your ******' tongue, man.
It's cool to express yourself,
but now you're just being a ****.

Hold thy beloved charientisms,
thy ****** knives in velvet sleeves:

You don't exactly seem to understand
the true power of those Words
you propagate so 'knowingly,'
as if a monkey with his own ****,
but, if you do realize what you say:
you're a ******* *******.

Well, which are you:

a tactless, spiteful,
foolish hypocrite,

or

an affectatious egoist
of a hypocrite?

I'd wager
an unhealthy balance
that it's both.

I've seen it for years.

You assume a lot
for how little you know.

You step on other people's sentences
with a mastered matter-of-fact tone
regardless of how true
those facts you spew
even ******* are.

There you go again,
borrowing other people's ****
without expressed consent
nor explicit intention to return;
we have a word for that, I think.

Either your behavior and morality
totally adapt to your surroundings,
and/or you're a ******* Hypocrite Fool.
Either way,
you cannot be trusted
once a back is turned.

Honestly,
if I had to guess,
I'd be hard-pressed to give you
the benefit of the doubt
by assuming the level
of consideration required
for maliciousness.

You just want all of your stuff for you,
and all of everyone else's for you, too,
and the crux is
you'll feign being pleasant
just until you get it,
then you come out of your ******* cocoon
and get all high and mighty, entitled, and condescending.

Last one on the bandwagon,
first one to throw a stone;
you're a real ******' winner!

All you tend to do
every time I chill with you
is berate others- oh, I meant "advise" others,
who may well be better off than you,
for having many problems
which you either could not understand,
or with which you find yourself,
you ******* Fool.

Every time I wonder
if I've become too indignant
as a direct result of your antics,
you remove my self-doubt
and reaffirm my reservations
by eating all my ******* cheese
or talking **** on my friends
behind the back of whoever it is
who has their back turned at the moment.

When will you learn?
When will you mature?

I guess nothing changes
if we tolerate **** in our faces.

Tread lightly, Elephant,
for you tread 'pon thin-*** ice."

"The only erroneous way
to expand one's Horizons
is not to."

"Check out these fountain pens!
They're so ******' badass,
and pretty cheap, too!"

"What,
like $3
for two of them
at Staples?"

"Yeah, basically!"

"Hah, well,
for the record,
if you ever wanna get me a gift
you can know I'll love and use,
get me a nice-*** pen or two.
That's why I write
with calligraphy pens and brush pens
just for fun.
Though,
I never really know
what to do with them
other than waste ink,
but I ******* love me
some nice-*** pens."

Irresistible;
I cannot constrain my Mind
from such desires.

Once I can have it,
I shall affirm the Sacred;
leave no doubt thereof.

Delirious, no:
intoxicated, by the
taste and smell of Love.

Look at her,
so cute
in her folly.

Has she even
learned
a ******* thing?

T'would seem not.

I wish I didn't find it
so humorous,
but then again,
I love the Irony:

I hope she enjoys
that juicy Karma
with that succulent side
of Poetic Justice.

One can always read or say
how to do what things,
but the only thing
that makes One any better
is simply going out and doing them.

Pillow whispers
The rain outside
Pooling together

Out of one seed
how many seeds again
to the ebon Earth
warm and returning?

Eternity presumed
in a worm-cast bedding,
rain-wet and brimming.

Open ended inception
of the dark and probable womb
making space for the determined
and all it's loose-tied light-wires
stringing off into every abyss.

Potential is Here,
still though not asleep,
she is very much alive and viable,
eyes wide beneath the surface,
her pacific inhalations
example for the dynamic,
her sighing a guide,
like a mother at length,
gently directing
the life of her child.

Out of the night
the light is risen,
out of the dusk,
a bent-spectrum slips.

In the void
there is no coming
or going,
no place else to where one may be banished.

In the open hands of odyssey
we are forever received.
Of the sojourn cyclic
myriad destinations meet in the middle
where a thousand flowers flame.

Out of one seed
how many seeds again
to the ebon Earth
warm and returning?

You move me,
In a way I cannot understand
You touch me,
With something other than hands

Is this perfect timing, or did someone time this perfectly?

Don't get me wrong, I'm scared for my life
This could go every way but right... and it might
But you move me in a way that I do not understand...and I want to
I want to know what it is you do
I want to know how you do it, and if I'm the only one you do it to

For now, I'm running scared
But I'm running circles around you