Nobody ever told you to have a high opinion of me.
I know I can be friendly.
However I am quick to stab and ******
Into your psyche. I might be off, slightly,
Because of some anomaly. I'll politely
correct myself then get all touche feely
with your feelings.

A lack of traction
like wheels spinning in the mud.
A subtraction of reason;
Call it swimming in a flood
Your blood is red as mine.
We both count
One, two, three, four, five
Six, Seven, Eight, Nine.

So why must you separate us
like cartilage between vertebrate?
I only want to decorate your face
with smiles.

*Is that too much to ask for?

I've missed hundreds of poems.
A potent poet focused on verses well spoken.
Not one that's been chosen,
Just one that's been frozen.
Stuck on ambrosian bread;
No head, Soft bed, Strong bread:
Just got better instead
On a strand. Better than
Better hand. Rather than
Burning myself, I went outside
And got some help with understanding
the hand I've been dealt.

I understand what your saying
But can it be said in a way that's less

Complacent?
Condescending?
Our points are adjacent.
Maybe that's what isn't comprehending.
Fractured views mending.
See, our argument is nascent
to a conversation. Instead of descending,
we're inventing unrelenting patience
with our ideals.

We just can't be friends.
I don't like to pretend
that I am ok with you being within
my mind. I don't want you to be akin
to the despair and sin blanketing my skin.

It's not evil but the protection from it.
The confection of your innocence
with my affliction is one thing I'll forever
hold an objection to.

However this fantasy I hold
in your decency is something
hard to restrain. Your look and touch
dispel my agony. Like an act of banditry,
you rob me of my disdain.

Maybe it's your nature
to be nurturing.
Maybe it's the danger
bordering my being.
Maybe I should just ask you.

*I just know you don't deserve this mess

Dead skin soup
marination for the soul.
The longer it soaks, the more the skin droops.
More flavor for the porcelain bowl.
Seasoned with scrubs,  wash, and shampoo in the stoup.
Scrub hard, rise hot and watch the tainted drain down a black hole.

A man came to my door late last night.
It was about 8pm if my guessing is right
He seemed shaken and overcome with fright
He stuttered and stammered as I turned on the porch light

Timothy he said
Timothy he begged
Please listen to me he pled
I must save you his tongue shed

Flabbergasted at the sight,
my thoughts abstracted despite
his quadratic explanation of my plight.
We connected like an arc light.

Hold on I demanded
Wait a second I commanded
He could tell by my look I was stranded
in the immensity of the situation so he spoke candid


*So your here to save my life? What do I say to something like that?