i woke up
just some
time ago
when i realized
i just wasn't
doin it right -

i wasn't doin it
at all -

classify sleep.

the time spent
prettyin' up
your lofty wants
in the nestles
of the night

or

the time spent
every day
doin a
whole
lotta
nothin
and probably
thinkin you
weren't

?

sleep.

tha's when
you blind
thinkin you
really
know what
red is

it's when you
stone cold
deaf
and live on
thinkin'

you can
still hear
just as
clear

His Voice.

She sat
A broken China doll
Spurting
Where she meant to
Sing.

Hold her hand
Bite your tongue
And
Remind her
That you're
Hers.

Shimmy wild
Shake down -

This is some
Railroading
Existential
Trolling
****.

I’m plugging in-

A glaring glitch
In your singular
Reality.

You’re completely
Right
If you think I’m
Taking advantage of the fact
That you
Think
We’re all just
Programmed players
In your
Sacred
Existence.

My iridescent snicker
Isn’t what’s up for debate
Buddy -

I know there’s a coyote
Lurking about
Somewhere
And I’m gonna let that
*******
Chuckle & buckle
Up
Until I lose it
In the
Trippiest corners
Of your mind;

Whistling like
Whispers
Where words
Sound like
Wonders

Bathed in
Confusion
At its best.

I’m gonna make you
Wonder
If you’ve ever
Waken up
At all.

--

Gear hopping
Daily
From your
Native system
To
“What the hell’s
Even
Going on anymore?”

Don’t worry
Though
Darling.

I only switched
The blues
And the greens.

You’re only sleeping
If you believe
You are.

tundra icicles
cut my heart open wide -

can't pretend
this wasn't what I signed up for
when I ran in here
after you.

i slipped you some matches
when you weren't looking
and watched you light up again,
while I just sat there

in unfamiliar territory
rolling around
on my big girl wheels,
determined to sneak you
a pair of telling eyes
as soon as no one
was watching.

i should've known better

than to bring you
a stolen vision,
as if i hadn't already learned
of the subjective quest -

i'm just trying to
help you see

what the matches were for.

Surely these surly bits
Must be burrs caught up in my
Makeup -

Making up reasons for
Why my spit was accidental.

I done been through a
Rough patch or two -
Crawling with these
Thorns in my knees
Across funky plateaus
That poke their chests out
In their scouts
For sunnier flora.

Though,
I assume their search
Didn't go over so well.

'cause these scabbings won't heal
Like I want them to,
Buried under gobs of
Ointment
That was supposed to take care of it

(And
One more bandage
Just in case).

I'm just moseying on through,
With my feelers out,
Making sure you're someone
I have to know.

In and on my way
Somewhere
In this crazy field,
Waiting for sunflowers
To bless my prayers
While I continue to
Make room for myself to
Slip past
Without being noticed.

I'm smiling so hard
To keep the soft-hearted
At bay -
Trying to avoid being forced
Into pinpoint relations
With clueless drifters
Who refuse to stay on their side.

They only mean well -
I know this,
I do.

But, the simple has yet to escape me.

Send your
Sympathies
To the weak ones,

Roleplaying
Alongside the meek,

For these are the creed
Who,
Without giving heed,

Deliver their lives
To bliss.

Toward thinking - thinking toward that newer stuff.

Implicating a newer truth -
More meaning more than ever what meant before.

[Enter eternity]

Dry unveilings found me dripping and drowning,
Ogling the ones who did it better.

Enlightenment, apparently, doesn't come with instructions -
Sorry, Timmy - do catch me when I'm wiser.

Nit pick my tendencies to
Overcome the dumb junk -
Trippin' about all of the dirt that's piled up on my dirt, already.

Each moment that caters to forgotten smiles,
X's out all of the  good times I could've spent passin' the conch shell with somethin' to say - Ha.

I'm itching to perform a miracle.

Settling for truths spilled from frigid lips just ain't my cup of tea -
Thank God.

--

Everything is happening now.
Exhale.

you're not half bad
at your candlewick blossom snuffing -

got your braggart game up loud
in your repetitive silence
beaming at the doting strange phoenixes
darting in between your
bending fingers,

snatching up my flames
in their return to their
static progress on
life skills that are lingering
far too long
in the forging stage.

baby, baby
please -

tell me those aren't
your voices
slithering up the tall
columns of echoes,
wailing out
overzealous,
too pompous
orations.

nevermind -

my mind's pretending
to sleep somewhere marvellous
in this mind-field
of
the littlest
pink *******,

trying to act like
i don't suddenly feel
as if
the tomorrow
up next
will be bringing
a different star.

so i just sit here -

pointing my toes at occurrences
that i really wish had've gone down
a whole lot more
differently,

praying that
by some miracle,
tossing a bit of dust
from my careful bag

(paired with the experimental
levitational practices
i keep doing in my free time)

will somehow
make room
for all these
eggshells you won't stop
throwing onto the floor.

too many have found me
playing patty-cake
under that possessed streetlamp
down Hardy,
the one that always seems to flicker
when i walk by -

snatching back its potency
just long enough
to highlight the
unsolicited red apple ritual
happening in my
cheekbones.

i've got a game to catch.

not trying to be the dawdling girl,
throwing all of her hopes
into the air,
willing the destined one
to be something that will
cradle us both.

you gotta be on this
wick snuffing trip
searching for something a little more than
a ****-tossing buddy.

better get a pack of matches
and try to beat me to it,
'cause i'm putting up my fire-red can

and the light's gonna follow me out.