Don't search for me for where I am,
I'm not searching for where you are.

To that which you "belong."

Don't look for me to the future,
For I learned your histories & they are repulsive.

The records are detailed & long.

Don't give no magnification on my past,
For I have the details of your future.

Wrong is just wrong!

You worry about the harm one could do?
I'm worried about the harm being done.

You're worried to offer an inch?
I tell you, grab a hold of my arm!

I heard a wise man saying,
"I wouldn't just abandon a friend
Simply because they were going through
Some strange parasocial moment.
Although, I will admit
That I may not fully understand it.
That I might not be able
To fully appreciate their perception
Of whatever given situation."

For, you see,
We can only truly speak
On that of our perspectives.

there was never enough paper
never enough books
the pens contained me
the key clicks asked to trace back too much
the paint had its own stories too
the dance was too visceral
the film was incoherent
and so i lived and died into them all
the masterful rebellion

and then your skin, when it was my paper
my canvas, my strings, my music
every flinch and gasp and breath was like art complete

i wanted horns, i wanted a tail,
i never wanted wings
because i grew roots first

Love is always so fickle,
Itself only as strong as our commitments.

Oftentimes, we seek a level
Which is non-commiserate
To that which we offer.

We often feel ourselves
To be what's most important.
Pushing & pushing.

Until that day
In which the push is away.
Distance becomes
Only that which we are close with.

i want food
i want to eat and sleep and be pampered
like a brat cat that gets so much love
enough of being a dog, it is tiring
and i think i am living in dog years
wait i was about to say cat years,
i want to live in tortoise years
as a tortoise