If I had one long wand
That reached far up to the sky
Would have poked it in the cloudland
Can’t see the earth so dry!

Can’t see the earth so dry
Scarred and deeply hurt
If I had a wand to poke the sky
Would have torn the clouds apart!

The parched earth is crying for rain
The soil is a desert track
Need a long wand to break open
The clouds to heal the crack!

The peasant is waiting on his tilled ground
May not his toil go waste
It’s time for the clouds to be earthbound
Save the season’s harvest!

O god give me a long magic wand
To dispel this summer’s looming curse
Force the stubborn clouds to melt and disband
Come down on earth as showers!

A boyish smile, a frivolous response, lips grazing my neck
Put on a plaid shirt and I’ll take mine off for you
Never ever never ever never ever ever ever
let your pride win
and we can set to sea in a canoe until you can let me in

I’m a sucker for sad eyes. That’s the compassion.
Pair those with thick-rimmed glasses: I’ll believe anything you say --
And I had a puppy once, so it’s a natural reflex to fill the bowl with water and affection and treats of all sorts.
My heart gives and gives and runs dry and quits
My heart quits and quits and floods with isolation and goes back to giving;
giving
giving
Tell me I'm living --
square one, I’m a hamster
You know, exasperation shouldn’t be as normal
as brushing your teeth
But then again, we’re all supposed to floss everyday and I always seem to forget to,
like Well-Being in general as my heart
gives and gives and dries and quits and gives and quits
and quits and quits
on everyone else that exists

You know,
I don’t want a man that fuels a petty cycle as long as a noose wrapped around my neck
I don’t want a man that shrugs off pain because he’s a man
I don’t want a man that eats his feelings or drugs his feelings or explodes his feelings all over the bed

I’ll desire disregard
and not long enough kisses that cut off like a woman’s water breaking midsentence.
A rocket,
An earthquake
I’ll want a fading away so that I can feel like I want something
& I’m a sucker for freckles and hard rock abs and defined biceps.
& british and french and irish accents.
& most of all, a man that doesn’t need me, or even want to see me
all that often

the space to contemplate
Am I Enough
The waver between
I want to be Enough
I don’t want to be Enough
I want to be Enough
No, I don’t want to be Enough
So I can want
Want
Aspire
Dream
Desire
Live in ifs and buts and maybes, dazed like a complete and utter
cliche

I don’t want a man that gives me a purpose
I don’t want a man that gives me flowers
Okay, I want a man that gives me flowers
and chocolate and good morning kisses and his time

I don’t want a man that snores
But he’s allowed to snore
I don’t want a man that cringes at a menstrual cycle
I don’t want a man that lives halfway across the world or a man next-door that lives in his head 24/7
I don’t want a man that punches his pain through walls
Or mirrors
Or ******* or dickwads or ******* faces

You know,
never ever never ever never ever ever ever
let your pride win
and we can set to sea in a canoe until you can let me in
if you let me in
and I can let you in

I don’t want a man that won’t let me in
I don’t want a man that won’t let love in.

today you squeezed my
arm the way i like
and said, "i miss
you all the
t
   i
     m
         e
            .
               "

I wonder what you would write,
If you had the inclination to dissipate such woes.
What would be on your paper?
What if my persisting persistence and boastful amount of
hyperbolic word arrangements could be yours?
I would love to read your writes and write your wrongs,
Hopefully your wrongs are just writes
And not a totality of havoc carefully spaced between blue lines,
Whilst chaotic linguistics tend to rise from a certain muse
I guess what I'm saying is,
That I am curious to visually participate in a what seems to be
Something near impossible.
Unless you are me and I am you.
Then my job is complete and I can happily say,
Its not half bad.