I can't figure out
if I'm supposed to be
an oddball Eros-laced
poetic artist of sorts

this revolutionary
evolution redesigner
with wake-the-****-up
typographic punches

or a sower of seedlings
via silly rhymes scheming
with wacked-out visualizations
for story-time imaginations
to mold future generations

ideally,
I want to do all three...

praying for the mind
time and energy
to manifest all
I can
Be

(including
rocking the ****
outta this day job
that's molding me
into a better model
who knows how to float
merrily upon her dreams
obsoleting false me)

*happythankUmoreplease

smell like my Mags -
mad puppyish

steeped in sweet
unconditionals

I should probably
wash them
and her
soon

but I really
kinda like it

and also,
procrastinating

I will love you
past the brackish fits
of irreverent split rifts

I will love you
through bruised indigo blues
stalking shadowed ceiling stares
down to your pulverizing pupils

I will love you
beyond my known limits
pushing my pulse over
the wall to hear beats
echo through you

and I will love you
from afar

if I have to

I feel the fates
tickling my brain

the signs
the fortunes
at the bottom
of my teacup
smiling up

the faceplants
blooming fortuitous

the Verse is up to
something(s)

it always is, but
sometimes I feel it
strong

like yesterday...

and I can't help
thinking of the one
I told you about
so long ago now -

how losing my job
gave me the opp
to find the work
I do and love

I didn't know who
you'd be to me
when I shared
that story

but the truer truth is -
I might never have
found you
either

if I didn't have that
soul-******* endeavor
ripped out from under
my fumbling feet

(but U would have
found a way, I bet)

I was so bummed
at the time, but now
I'm grateful I went back
to serving

it's where I met that
(formerly) mutual friend
of ours

it was a 2-4-1
holy pivotal stone

now I bow to that call
that left me in tears
and led me to two
great loves

that swiftly shifted
my sands

and I'm pretty sure
they have something
to do with each other

with walls up
distraught in a rut
wearing those moping
hopeless pants

as if something bad
is gonna come
from facing me
while you're
in them

the irony
is near lethal

it's the only thing
that may **** you

I hope it slays
all you're not

not tryna
give myself
scrolliosis

to excavate
some yestertongue
from your fortress
to use against you

it's all in my
Youbrary

at the ready

like I said,
it always just seems
utmost important

so it stains me
and I like it

but it's all
for you

because, what kind
of mirror would I be,
if I didn't

- stubbornly -

use everything
existing
in me

to shake you
into remembering
who you are

and are going to be

it's weird how
you're not here

yet I feel you
- still -

reverbs tingling
post-disengage

like you always
******* do