call yourself
to be
yourself

tell your best
to be their best
without you

fill up what you want to own
minus you yourself
and your phone

tall orders spill.  

pill bottles fall.

tasty tidings one and all
.
.
.

floating through fossil scape
flowing over into a trial’s gate

calmly swimming through today’s fate
always beckoning back to yesterday


to one’s own taste would i say
if i was one’s own commonplace

if i wasn't id be your own
and we would still be using telephones

shift on
carry your own
lest ye own
be your one
and only

don't give your style
                             to anyone

please
             Savor your Style
                Save it in solace
        and change it for no one
    
                 But Yourself                   
               


                                              ­                       rob the style
                                                           ­       
                                                         ­         most
                                                   ­                          easily approachable
                                                    ­          
                                                      ­        and give it to no one
                                                        
    ­                                                 unless they are coachable
                                
                               ­                                        BY YOU

A common reflection
exposes a section
of a section.

Mirror Friction
reveals
Mere Fiction

Your selfish selfies
are always ready, never messy.

A pocket mirror, antenna included
is a perfect filter, flaws excluded.

"Am I the fairest of them all?"
You ask daily.

"I like you
more than most things in this world."
"That's too bad", you say.
"I was looking for likes (plural)"

Feel it in the middle.
Seal it full of riddles.
          the resonating presence
          is rarely full of resentment.
Peel away a little
But never reveal
          the bitter middle.

that false tickle of an instinct
overshadowed by understated feelings.
         a swarming sensation that brings
               deafening vibrations.
         a fuzzy manifestation
               triggers chemical complications.

the fever dream will seem
                 full of meaning
when feelings are fleeting.

The reasons will send you reeling.
          
            a treasure in a truth
                        is not the same
            as a lesson in a lie.

I know both feelings
             but I wouldn't give either a try.

    
So I ask, why?
Why believe your lie?

a mellow smile
          *on a gloomy night
turns miles into minutes
           maybe not, but it just might
no meaning of measurement
          in a common sentiment
         
 no matter if you're a gentlewoman/man

to see a mellow smile

to see a fellow smile

*is a lovely sight

Don't you know?
The fog turned to snow.

At least we can see where to go
When the lights turn low

Figments of our evolution
In the span of minimal progress
             if any

But I must confess
while I'm fessing up to the rest
and getting it off my chest

it meant nothing

P.S.   I lied