The greeting is the same
the minutia is the difference
Point A and Point B
are always constant

Like a craftsman with
his toolkit and techniques
nothing is out of sync
with expectations

It's not a game any longer
it has become a chore
motions to go through.
Ten minutes in....

You....you threw in a wrench
into my machinations of
dialogue and movement.

You....you don't bore me.
It's a game once again,
and we both intend to win.

Let's play

If all men want
is an ******,
they'd stay home.
DIY

*** isn't one-dimensional
neither are we.
The goal is
reassurance,

Reassurance we
aren't monsters
That we're interesting
and attractive

That rejection is only
happenstance
and that someone is
willing to be vulnerable

if only for the night
with us.
Someone only
needs us

and we need them.
Possessive and jealous?
To keep what is ours,
our purpose.

Our purpose is
simple.
To be wanted,
to be accepted.

I found quiet reflection
in the city tonight,
quieter than any dirt road
we have back home.

Bus brakes squealed
over bar patrons carousing.
Life in a snapshot vacuum,
solitude in the sound.

I found myself on a
stone wall tonight,
I could see through
the years to the end.

Footsteps w/ghosts
mingled w/ those present.
Life in self-discovery,
comfort in realization.

I was raised
On fairy tales
Romance
And promises

I was weaned
On cynicism
sarcasm and
No sincerity

I yearn for
Simplicity
Non-
Duplicity

I get a mix
And a dis-
connect
Of organs

Simplicity is
Lacking &
Our desires
Don't mesh

Regrets are for those
Who make bad decisions
And everyone who
Lacks intuition

Those with a
Bountiful perspective
Don't lack the
Requisite objective

To get through life
In a satisfied way
Though they might
Never break away

From the monotony
Of daily life that
Leaves you wanting
Something not flat

When what's in the the mirror is satisfying
When what's in a head is finished growing
When what the tongue does is mostly lying
It's better off to just get going

When the palms have callused over
When the billfold is filled completely
When the lifestyle is of a drover
Nothing ever tastes as sweetly

I fell hard for you last time
and broke my knows
Were busy and weren't
responsivable for
gravity's reign, beau

*******, what hurt more?
Broken knows, the face slap
or going home a loan?

We had a deal that wasn't
honored by you or me.
Aye for an aye to get buy
but you took my self
and broke it over your need.

Let's fall in love every Tuesday
It's a product of conspiracy
and best laid plans.

Let's be spontaneous every weekend
Meticulous details notwithstanding
Spontaneity not outstanding

It's been awhile since that nightmare;
I haven't cried since then.
I've never cried tears of joy
or wept out of fear
like I did in your kitchen

Failing to protect ones I love
is a haunting notion.

You're a living ghost that
reminds me of a mistake.
A Victorian-era opaque mist
that keeps me up most nights,
reminding me of the edge I walked

You inspire equal parts of
love, terror, and loyalty

Although we made it through
that hell physically unscathed,
we didn't make it out unchanged.
Overramped on stolen speed
Living apparition, don't ever leave

I understand what happens when
a piece of you is given to another:
you grow as you give.
When part of you dies, you feel it
for the entirety of your life

You're the kinda girl people write poems
about, aren'tcha?
***** Limericks, but still, poetry!
Something about white shoes
and your off & way
My tongue placed firmly in your cheek.

Chest-nut-hair and other lurid details
But ******' nothing meant, right?
I a-polo-gize profuzely
you've just got me in a fluff
No,
        don't  
                       walk
                                  a_way

I'm not trying to be esotaroric, esotaric, asoturric
****. Just listen, I wrote a limpprick about you
I can't even whatknow that's...wrong again.
What I'm Trying To Say Is Nothing; I Should Say Nothing.

Nothing is good-write?
NothingmeansI'mquietShhhhSleepy-tymew/aKomenRibbonblanket

I sat down at our table today.
I'd forgotten how warped the wood
could be.

I stared at the paper menu and
ordered the same thing from last time,
lemon chicken.

I haven't spoke in days. I've had
conversations but talking and listening
aren't speaking.

The grain of the table traces out
an indecipherable message of supreme
importance.

I crack the table's code and weep
for their are no more puzzles to solve
in here.

What are you going to
be like when you finally
mellow out?

I can't see you changing
enough to hold a job or even
be productive.

Maybe that's your entire
existence; show me the error
of purpose.

You're the best and worst
person I know at every single
moment.

That's a purpose for now.