Here it comes again
--the acid creeping up my throat
Reminding me that the motion I perceive with my eyes
Does not coincide
With the motion of my mind.
The fluid in my ears, I find
Being steered by forces hidden behind
A curtain blinding my sight.

When I was six, the sickness would hit
When I was in the backseat going down winding streets.
The pain, I claimed, came from my jaw
But it wasn’t long until they saw
Splattered across the back bench of the car
--I was motion sick.

As a teen, cleaned from this curse,
Steering the machines that once made me squeam,
I thought I was free.
Until vertigo creeped into my seams.
Clear sight, but a spinning mind!
A crystal displaced in the skull behind my face
Would trace every turn through, as if it was reality who had forgotten to move.

Now nausea creeps in again as my mind perceives a reality that once again, my eyes can’t see.

All of my hopes
and dreams

so real to me…

But when my eyes look out to reality, they are nowhere
to be
seen
And it makes me feel
So
Nauseous

What's better than tripping is falling in love
What's better than Letterman, Leno, Fallon, and all the above
What's better than popping bottles trying to ball in the club
Is the first caveman pops with his son, ball and a club
What's better than paper is ballin' it up
What's better than followers is actually fallin' in love
What's better than frolicking, follies, fallin' in mud
Rolling in green pastures, wanderin', followin' love
What's better than eating is feeding your fam
What's better than meetings is missing meetings to meet with your fam
What's better than leaning and needing a Xan
Is hitting your zan dreaming a dream could mean leaving the land
What's better than yelling is hollerin' love
What's better than rhymes, nickels, dimes and dollars and dubs
Is dialing up your darling just for callin' her up
It ain't nothing better than fallin' in love
IGH!

I think
When he leaves
My self-care will make me un.stoppable.

I think
When he leaves
I will fill my OWN needs.
I am here for me.

I think
When he leaves
I don’t want to hear anymore
Bike
Lingo
For a while.
I don’t want to hear
Every
Detail
Of montreal
Of literally anything anyone says /ever/
Compared to ~new orleans~
To
‘One of [his] friends’
Who has the sweetest gig
Life
Hobby.

I think when he leaves
I will still love him
The way I love beautiful people
Even if his ignorance..
Immaturity?
Self-interest?
Makes his language
Attitude
Reactions
T o x i c  to  me.

I put so much
Into my contentedness
With life
My life
And i need to be recognized for these efforts
I need to be SEEN
To be HEARD
To be respected for the depth of my being and not my #skillz on a skateboard
Or my patience for bike #factz and stories.

******* respect me with tenderness or I am
Out
The
Door

No matter how perfect I thought you were.

You’re
so
cute.
Whether you’re that kid trying his first playboat
That woman working the cash at Timmies
Laughing with me as I light up over the word ‘bacon’
That girl smiling at me as I fumble with my passports
Or that lonely soul who holds deep eye contact
Because it’s the only form of connection that comes completely naturally
To you.

The look in your eyes
Your spirit for life
You make me happy
Because you’re so dang cute.

I have a crush on you.
On your Joy de Vivre.
A deep affection,
Like that which my father held for me
That one morning
When I was skipping around the house
Crazy eyes and wide smile:
C’est ton joy de vivre.

C’est fou comme la vie est belle;
et c’est fou comme vous vous êtes beaux.

La joy de vivre;
c’est la définition de l’amour pour l’autre.

Something to be learned
From my gut
But focus too hard and that tension will cause my gut to shut the **** up.
And sometimes I want it
But until I listen I know I stay haunted
By a gut that churns and yearns to upchuck the truth.
Just learn the truth!
It burns in you!
But still I tense and squeeze and search for keys
Search for meaning, search and plead
We make believe while our guts clench and scream
You are the truth!
Its only you!
And its only me
Because we cause what we see
Just like the fish cause the sea
And the sea caused the fish
In an age old wish for self
You see identity just builds itself
It has no real base in some impermeable self
Its the illusion of self
That swells from relation
Because yours is not mine and
Mine is not yours
But apart from all this: nothing is sure!
We’re a network of cells distinguished by traits
But we form one big gut because we’re one in the same.

He grabbed my neck
I said
'Don't grab my neck'
It's disgusting.
"But I'm not squeazing it"
'But I DONT like it.'

He
keeps
grabbing
my neck.