I play softball,
She comes to my game,
She starts playing softball.
I'm a catcher,
She's a catcher.
I'm first base,
She's first base.
I'm pitcher,
She's a pitcher.
I'm agrivated,
She's amused.
I'm taking lessons,
She's taking lessons.
I'm not a catcher,
She's a catcher.
I'm a pitcher,
She's not a pitcher.
Copy Cat.
I join a team,
She joins two teams.
I practice hard in my backyard,
She claims she does also.
I admit I take lessons,
She refuses to admit the fact that
She takes lessons because

She's untrusting.

I Love The Feeling Of Dirt Frosting My Skin,
And My White Pants Staining From Muck,
I Pulled Out My Old Friends Today,
My Cleats, My Glove, And My Luck,
I Slipped On My Sliding Pants,
Ones I Haven't Worn For A Season,
The Hole On My Knee Matched It's Scar,
The One I Am Most Proud Of For Many Reasons,
I Just Had To Trace The Stitches Of My Ball,
The One I Missed All Winter,
I Am So Excited To Plow Myself Between Bases,
And Re-Awaken My Inner Sprinter

it's my theory that
we only notice the small changes
the small edits to life, the small movements that
fall just outside of the normal line of everyday
it's my theory that when two people are simultaneously in love
nothing past the outer doors of each other's eyes truly matters
and today,  I realized the trees no longer have leaves.

These subcategories of articles
That separate theory from fact
Are lines that, really,
Are quite unclearly drawn.
Categories for theory and qualia
That put me under the impression
That everything is based on a conjecture
And it's all in my head.
Qualia is defined as being subject
To your sense perceptions
Brought on by stimulation of phenomena.
Theory is a system of ideas used
To explain something.
But don't we theorize everything,
Based on our qualia?
If we perceive that a rose is red,
And we theorize that this type of rose
Will always be red because we will always see it red,
Does that really make it red?
Is my red your green,
And you only call it red because to you need to call it something?
Or is that just our theory that to be comfortable
Is to fit in and be accepted by everyone?
And that to challenge what is called fact
Is to be rejected?
Where do we draw the line
In these thickly worded and sinking articles?
Is it where we can finally say that
Everything is based on theory that our qualia subjects us to?
If so, am I under the correct theory that
I really am alone?
That my sense perceptions just play tricks on me
So I don't think to hard, or go insane?
Is insanity just theory based on qualia?
Or maybe I should be under the theory
That being a thinker like this
Subjects me to the unpleasant qualia of a perceived headache.

palm to palm
let's sway;
dance my doubts
away

nothing short
of feigned hope,
we shuffle
in kaleidoscope

but we moved as if
we knew traits of love
no timidity for the below
or above