Superficial, lackadaisical arrangements
I use words without full knowledge

I pluck strings with the iron tutelage of a man who knows not the instrument I play.
It's basically allegorical, metaphorical
I met the trimet line on the left handed side of my indifference(s)

Let's shed tears not once, but twice, perhaps thrice in order to feel slightly ok with the sense of self that pervades the essence of what is, what isn't, and what may be.

I'd venture on, content notwithstanding.

I'd soldier yon
Parental advisory, content landing

I sit in a mid high liberry
Misspelling words I know full well proper.

I have a mindset for the current
And an undertaking from the past.

Home screams "42!" in red and white
Push it to the side
I have no time tonight

We are all separate, but wholly one
They are all separate, but wholly one
Father, Ghost, and the Son

Strange meetings in the middle of everything
Stare at the ground,
while your gaze starts to sting

How old are you?
How old am I?

Why did you grab my leg?
How did you notice my movements?
Where are you?

I want nothing to do with tomorrow.
Because self pity of today is overwhelming.
Knowing better doesn't change the actions
And my hip wants to pop out of its socket
Traction
Gaining
Hydro-planing
On the streets of whe'ever the **** in Oregon

Loss and gain
Measure the same, but one feels so much
heavier than the other.

Push beads back
Hold her hair back
The only difference is sharing loneliness with another

I'm not saying that I understand, fully what's happening here.
[Soul searching, or so I've been told]
But I know that you and I are worlds apart.

Is there this great of a disconnect between the rest of the world and I?
*Because the Internet

If I secretly wanted to explode
Would you tell somebody?

Pass center-left
We're strangers now
Happiness?
Not really
Contentment?
Maybe.
I can't help but feel we're better off
No we...
You
Me
Separate entities

Backside volley
To the side of the valley
Favorite my tweet
And I'll flip-flop my meat
Meet me at the grocer's
Five-dollar Tuesdays
Make sure it's ******.
Unapparent Appalachians
I spelled it wrong initially

Thought-o-sphere
To drivel near.
I got stuff to do.
I got stuff to do.
I got stuff to do.

Just touch me,
Somebody.

I hope to turn it into a poem.
We shall see.
That's pretty much it.
This is a ****** poetry.

Outside is a meat locker

33 degrees Fahrenheit

And we are all cold cuts
Preserving freshness
Through breathing

Un-motivation,
I have a way about me.

Are you enjoying me, anonymous reader?
Because my self-indulgence is wearing on I.

Let's **** the flame together.
There's a mess on the table.

If I ignore her, will she eventually leave me be?

Thoughts, thoughts, and scatter-plot dots
I've got intelligence down to a science.

Do I write for you?
Do I write for me?
Do I write for Him?
Do I write for she?

Who's the head?
And who's the heading?
Who's the body?
We're just beginning.

Musical significance on the back-note taste bud of my lower sound registry.
That was a long line.

I like the 4th wall, if only because it breaks for me.

Alligator tears have no place here,
and nor does this lackadaisical approach.

I hope you all ride first class,
and I ride coach.

[Title]

You're a good girl, and you know it
But what does that make me?

Let's let glue run through my veins
I'll stick with anything you give me.

Short poems always seem to give a sense of importance.

Dearest, how good it is to see you.
Remember the “I love you”?
I meant it; I still do
But love changes
And so have you,
And being honest
I have too.
So where does that leave us?
I’m asking tú
Because, being honest:
I’ve no idea what to do.

You’re married now
Were married, how?
Where did you go for
so long?
I heard he was a replacement
You decided on engagement
And your wedding was the
happiest day of your life.

I’m happy for you,
I was, am, and still do have joy seeing you
But now I’m wondering
What in the world to do…
Now that you’re asking me to be with you.