Touch me
I need to know I'm alive
Touch me
For the reminder that I'm loved
Touch me
with a hug of support
Touch me
for no reason
Touch me
I'll feel the most in my heart
Touch me
with your
words
hands
love
needs
gifts
nothing
all.

Complete;
That's what you make me when we touch.
Never;
That's how often touch me.
Happy;
That's what I'll never be.

On the desk, there lies a fountain pen
It doesn't take cartridges
Rather, you dip it in ink and press it to paper
It makes a sound, not unlike fingernails on a chalkboard
But not like it either - it's satisfying instead of goosebump-inducing
Slowly scratching the page until it's gone
The ink has bled onto page 3
I've pressed too hard
But this paper is thick
Previous poets pondered profusely
Pretending this pen was a pipe
Holding it between their teeth until an idea came ripe
This pen holds a history of poetry
Of spilling thoughts that otherwise stayed internalized
And of sometimes spilling ink
It gets everywhere
I love it

Retrograde beauty
Sparkling, smiling down at Earth
As dusk falls and fireflies illuminate our own planet
She shines even more brightly
Despite the pressure
And despite the sulfur
Her terrestrial surface gleams
Having no moons
She's a solo entity
But our sister
She circles the same violent ball of heat
As heliocentric
As we

How to become a poet?
Write
Your words will spill
Some like water droplets from a faltering faucet
Some like torrential downpour
Leading your mind to flash flood warnings
Your words are wrapped in foil
Waiting to be heated up
And eaten up
Poets are hungry

A staccato accordion
Chimes merrily as the spotlight turns
In the star-ridden distance
I can hear The Entertainer
It's out of tune - but a jack-in-the-box jingle
Doesn't carry well in the wind
The Ferris wheel has stopped
But the passengers are unaware
Their gypsy laughs and joyous shrieks
Loop carelessly around the air
Whimsical men in gargantuan top hats
Guessing weights and handing out sugar
Decorated elephants and dilapidated circus tents
Circle a trapeze artist as he wows onlookers
It's warm out here
But there's a chill
Something ominous
A sound that's shrill
It could just be a ride that needs to be fixed

It's so lovely out here
I think I'd be okay if I never went inside again
All I'd need is paper and a pen

And maybe a little food

Drink a clock and combine with time
Be once again a work of art
Doesn't it feel so sublime
The world around you falls apart
But you're a timeless interjection
A gear within a counterpart
A ripple in a lake's reflection
A defibrillator to my heart
Your mind is transcendent yet you're here
A physical reminder of the rest
The world is not as it appears
That's why I'll give you all my best