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6.0k · Dec 2015
everything is gonna be OK
mike dm Dec 2015
stress stress stress
stress stress
stress stress stress stress

stress stress

stress stress stress stress
stress helpiminhell stress stress
stress stress
mike dm Jan 2016
this is the first day that
my grandma
get to live
since a really long time ago

what can i possibly say?

i want to curl up inside my own fist right now
like one of your old matryoshka dolls
that i used to play with
and put you inside me so i can make it all better

i wanna recall all the thoughts
that once were yours
i want to know you why didn't i get to know you better

i stayed away im sorry im strange i get sad a lot but i loved you still

she had once
a person
she isn't and
i can't stop shouting these rips from my eyes
dm micklow
2.7k · Jul 2016
i meme now
mike dm Jul 2016
slipped glyph.
this and that; wracked
in some silly, heady
packrat skyscraper
of leaning light.

then's flicker of vague regret hangs around, because life.
because letting go is never really, ever, fully possible.
misremembrance -now- retracing my..

it was
as though
you had written,
signed and
sealed those
few words
with your own
blood and bone

and yet i
not recognize
my own

nor this, here,
outstretched hand.


*because a winged thing, other,
has this history
by the tail,

and your thoughts are not your own
dm micklow
2.2k · Jun 2014
fresh out of fucks to give
mike dm Jun 2014
I give zero ***** anymore.
I have no more ***** to give.
I'm totally absolutely incontrovertibly
fresh out of *****.
My supply of *****
is completely out -- see??
[cupboard door swings open
Only to reveal
a fuckless cupboard]

Even the **** Store is out of *****.
I called them just now,
The guy on the phone said he was
Fresh out --
He told me:
The production and manufacturing
Of ***** has been outsourced
To Shenzhen China,
And the workers are striking
Because they are getting paid
Fifteen cents an hour to produce
6 ***** a second --
Which is inhumane and just wrong.

I asked him why they didn't pay better --
He said, ***** if I know! Like I said,
I'm fresh out of ***** to give
So who gives a ****?
1.7k · Jun 2014
mike dm Jun 2014
We unfriend so easily --
mice clicking

Memories --
Just a bunch of ******* memes --
Nicely, slickly
1.7k · Feb 2017
waning yeses
mike dm Feb 2017
i wanna be the sun so bad
but this moon spoons
my dark spaces so v good
1.7k · May 2016
blank page, wait for me
mike dm May 2016
light magenta vertical;
gaurdian of the margin.

light blue horizontal;
conveyer of the ledger.

the space
between -
white teeth gleam,

lunarlit scribbles

across one loose leaf,
fell by some god
awful idiot,

all for
to space


i will be

in elegant
of the

wrist -

a has-been

so, i am not supposed to be here.
not anymore, anyway.

i know that.
i am three-hole
punch drunker.

but those potential
whatif's glyph bright
behind closed eyelids,


me wonder
just a little longer.

blink. blink.

1.4k · Aug 2016
copywrittenly yours, you
mike dm Aug 2016
troll tooth
oger toe 
flow stupid 
fistful of shiny carbon lattice wilt
and a composted halo too
beautifully torn derivatives slid
from this orifice
oven timer set fer 

office space wasted

noob cubed 
these are exponential times we're livin in, sim

yer prolly obsolete, so tap the banner below
for more there's more
trends friend then interrogate 
unfriend those has-been's for the win dim 
naked lightbulbs swing from
threadbare strings faster than light plus **** too 

there's ***** adorno

how right you were 
this **** is almost criminal 
art narcs on

the hole a' truth
so help me dog

the hominid 
that stood up 

this fiction.

slipstream hoolahoop no-show
dm mi c   k lo    w
1.4k · Jun 2014
mike dm Jun 2014
Deep down
I crave the sacred
Now that everything is
Just a dust mote limping along
The curvature of a light beam
in this dilapidated house

I've winked
At everything but the kitchen-sink --
Although, I do have my eye on it

Know-it-all that knows he knows

I wish I knew subtlety

Mona Lisa's quarter-smirk
Makes my emojis feel
Sorta slutty --
like they try too hard ya know?


toothbrush mustaches
Killer drones friended by elm trees

Dissimulation is
my religion
it just explains things,
It walks back the big crutch
It makes gods into amoebas

All. I. have. are. words.
******* scribbles.
Stillborn syntactical limbs of whim
Severed at the moment of send

Yet still
I deliver and hold them
Close to me
They are my ex-press
A last confession straight to the quick

The world doesn't spin it screams
We just Van Gogh it with
Slurry nite nite sleep tight's

God, what I would *give
1.4k · Dec 2015
mike dm Dec 2015
one hand
driven up sunken
inhaled midsection
resting at wet sternum
pausing to spread
five fingers
i can feel the beat quicken

digging them in
i inch up toward her

body angular  
waves of her churn
i eat dishes beastly
her entire plate clean
1.3k · Apr 2016
little notes
mike dm Apr 2016
let me yoke to you.
twist mine into yours.
***** me in at the hips.
lift me into your if's
and have me, present.

our torquing bodies
charging each other,
holding back the

bloom of darkness.

yes, it is true:
we are
closest to the dark.

but we are also
sown to the broadest urge
that wrote us.

this ebb is lit with written poems,
receding into the lightness of dense being.

jot me
into this

and i
exist in
your margins,

like nice little notes
that mean everything in the world.
1.3k · May 2016
light, swiped
mike dm May 2016
my skin
is thin and
swimmingly scrim.

the moonface
pushpulls me.

i am
too much.

i am
not enough

i am *****
all too often.

i am
me -

i am you
in your supine

i matter


vibrating with the sound
of your voice, which

seems real
-so real-


the kitchen

1.3k · Feb 2017
this is jus a poem
mike dm Feb 2017
sidelong wakesleep
her face halved
in periwinkle sheets

one sun stripe
zips down the room
partioning the dark

toes yawn
under the sheets
inadvertently scratching me

her breath
so much more (or less)
than i could ever poet
1.3k · Jan 2016
mike dm Jan 2016
i guess poetry can be used
to inspire optimism
and make people feel good,

but i'm looking for the kind of poetry that
eats the air
from my lungs and
sifts my holes
with a fistful of dead flowers.
1.2k · May 2016
living off the land
mike dm May 2016
rooster crow.
goat horns clash.
sudden sutured glow
for what is left



comes forward
into thought.

soon i'll know
what it feels like to find roots;
or i won't,


afternoon slow
blue sky flies
off the tips of treetops;
ancienter than dragon bone femur,
scraping aged skylines.


1.2k · Feb 2016
mike dm Feb 2016
i know
a soul
that has a poem
writing inside her.

among other things,
it has written me down, there,
on the backside of her third rib.

i, consumed
by a certain peculiar meanderlust,
curl up
along its
metamorphic edge:
riding those finishing strokes
that forever code your own typeface as such.
dm m
1.2k · Oct 2015
a land of yay
mike dm Oct 2015
once upon a time
there was
a circle

and it drummed
and it

and the lump
the size of a tyrant's
a pure
white light feeling

and i was a


a part of something
not apart
not asunder  
a heartspace coming coming

a star starring

in the distance
guiding my lost feet toward
an oasis
that actually


a new start an art of being dreaming awake made

for you

a land of yay to hold in the palm of your hand and
a vibrating tone
resonates in that numb sternum
a tone that
from the ten thousand and ten whites of the first light
ever lit

Her womb receiving you
1.2k · Apr 2016
ode to the bluest blue
mike dm Apr 2016
you glazed bricks blue
at Ishtar Gate,
deep seas where
lion, bull and dragon dwell

you are featured on
the gold funeral mask of Tut,
adorning his brow line
in deep eternal hues.

your name is summoned
several times
in the Epic of Gilgamesh,
the oldest known piece of literature
known to exist.

your mere
of L's
and slant

eleven tongues licking all my holes.
1.2k · Apr 2016
the feels for this poet
mike dm Apr 2016
your blackbow words
melt my syntax
into a scarfelt dew

possible again
when i lay myself down
along your darklit spectrum

my words
prostrate before you,
ruler of all
that twiststurns
and licks clean
this lonely vessel of yeses no'd
1.2k · Jun 2014
a comment on music
mike dm Jun 2014
crumpets and tea,
taken with grinning powdered wigs
go scrumptiously well with a Mozart piece played in the tired drawing room;

Tchaikovsky's Fifth
would have the subject alone
in the vestibule,
ear against the ballroom double doors of ornate mahogany,
muffled and muted and just being;

Philip Glass
The oppressed past lit --
A futuristic glance
over one's shoulder
Regifting an overrated present
1.2k · Apr 2016
it's a goddamn dumpster wall
mike dm Apr 2016
i jus now saw
some dude
literally move
the apt. dumpster
so to paint
the wall white
behind it;

a wall, which,
will be completely ******* covered
by the dumpster,
after putting it back
against the newly painted white wall.

plus im pretty sure they're calling for rain..

that happened.

i actually witnessed that happen:
and, then, proceeded to
turn around
to go back inside my apt.,
with two full trashbags in hand.

... do you even realize what that means??

somebody actually gave him
that task: "go paint behind the dumpster."
aren't there other things to do?
or is this guy's boss that much of a ******
that he'd tell his employee,
"heyyy soo.... the wall.. behind the dumpster --
you know that wall? yaa
it needs to be painted.."

i mean, it'd be one thing
if, like,
the wall were
visible. and gross looking.
and people were calling
and complaining
about it,
like it was some eyesore
that offended their
aesthetic enjoyment
and anticipation
of approaching
the scuffed forest green
apt. dumpster.

but it's not;
so it's not;
and so
they aren't.

or i'd get it if people routinely socialized
hanging around dumpsters,
like a water-coolor
or something;

buuut they don't;
so it's not
like a water-cooler..

... yaaa, unless i'm missing something here,
as far as i know,
there have been no
emerging cultural trends
whereby large groups of people
are routinely finding some
sorta symbolic resonance with
the object of a

it's gravitas
doesn't exactly
prompt frequent and
spontaneous dialogue
around it.

it isn't a known cultural artifact,
representing something meaningful and
bigger than ourselves, creating cohesion
and establishing an intangible commonality:

behold, our goodly trash-bearer!
great eater of things prolly totally not needed!
humble builder of plastic trash continents,
swirling vortex in the middle of the high seas!

nobody says that.


and nobody
is overstaying their visit
at a giant,
metal maw
which disposes things,
either unneeded or unwanted,
long enough
to suddenly notice that
the wall behind it
could maybe use a new paint job.

it's not exactly a cafe.
it's a ******* dumpster.

that man,
charged with the task of
painting the wall whiter
behind the dumpster,
ought to be
on a canvass

which we all could see,
visible to the greater public.
and we would celebrate it, with him.
we could all gather
together, and toast
to his mind manifest, his art,
on display for all to see.

i wanna see THAT.
**** the white wall
behind the
******* dumpster.
that **** can wait.

what visions would surface?
how would he render it?

what would
he make?

i dunno

he'd paint
a surrealist depiction
of a man
charged with the task
of painting white
a wall behind a dumpster
as rain clouds
rolled in overhead,
spelling out

"i am Employer.
destroyer of worlds,
and vibes.
feel my ****** wrath."
1.2k · Jun 2014
nature's switch
mike dm Jun 2014
I dissolve
When I'm in the thick of nature
It turns my brain off (for once)

Smells cast spells
Sounds surround
I am finally in it

I feel

Whittled down
To bone and breath

Arabesque complexity nixed
And I am
OK with that

My worries
Go extinct
1.1k · Feb 2017
mike dm Feb 2017
the ever briggy snapperjab,
once as trallhup as spacescrapers,
had his woo jotty happenstance
jejuned and nooned

and i soon saw
that i too was too much tooned
in the known visible wavelurf
where roving fate is ghosted
by inexhorrorbull ringly meedecree
of blingee choo choo Hist-o-Then

ever since,
my crave
has castled me down
into whitened gray limb petrify

where diggy beclouded sendersave replaces
1.1k · Jan 2016
super mario flow
mike dm Jan 2016
sometimes words pour out of me. but mostly i pour them. what comes out is.. is..

monkey suit
ontology that thinks he thinks an original thought or two describes me.

i really need to grow up. act my age. get out of this

place. yuhknow?

hi friend. welcome to my scream of consciousness. boing.

do you ever ever wonder when or
how the was had -even- been,

or whatever? sky outside looks like nintendo again, full of intent and so forth.

yes, of c i feel fine. why, this primal horde is not mine. it's your sub sea too.
all have crawled from it. exchanged that'sfishy for this. ex-istence is weird, sorta.
1.1k · Jan 2017
i can't write
mike dm Jan 2017
Inhale all of those felt bones. Observe. Skeletons will dance in the dark for you..

Hang them up. Tilt your head. Curl your hair. Bite your lip. Wonder at them, feel them

as a thing

Wonder at
how they
diminish us
with such
gentle clinks
of their being.
mike dm Feb 2016
I would humbly put forth the idea, quite prostrate, that it would do us some good if we were to put aside, for a time, our epistemological certainties and archetypal savior fixations and, instead, opt for a more robust, ocher-hued ontological preeminence: putting the what before the why.

Only then can one, say, sip hot herbal tea from an old pink bone china teacup and, without thinking about all the things all the time, for once -just- feel the sun's warmth on your aged face as it begins its set over a half-eaten cotton candy sky that is epic af and reminds you of Peter Pan and then Robin Williams and then whywhywhy and then something random and weirrrd, and, in doing so, you can watch the lack of shittogetherness, of which duly occupies the very seat of your character like a bully usurper that hits you bc "he loves you," melt into a very (very) temporary oblivion and revel in what is before you without feeling paralyzing angst that is, usually, soo angst-y that you gotta pronounce that **** in German as if you were Schopenhauerly sitting at some non-descript desk in some non-descript room with your hand stroking your truly descript crazygeniusguy hair that is some kind of proto-Wolverine hairdo (and you wonder if Stan Lee was cryptically tipping his cap to S's philosophical pessimism with this peculiar gesture; consider googling it but don't because you've already googled too much sheeyt today), thinking (or brooding) about how much of a ******* Descartes is with his whole, yuhknow, theory about some ******* secret nanoputian angelic chemist that sits at the pearly gates of the Pineal Gland and performs the sacred transduction of the divine ghost, or whatever. Otherwise you are, like, consumed with analysis, which is a complete ******* bore and - let's face it - a thoroughly transparent attempt to sound smarter than you actually are.

This herbal tea I'm currently drinking has "rose hips" in it. Dear botany, that image is fun.
1.1k · Feb 2017
another sophia
mike dm Feb 2017
and she spoke,
and her lips were myth;
her tongue, song:

forehead scar shone
lodes of rune
re-membered ember
of yesteraeon soot cooked
sitting fire in ashen ire re-sired

without him

her self
felt, *******
clod alive

tooth of skull
culled forth
bone spoken
tomes uttered

and i felt her light enter
this dilating space
of ebb and ruin and alone

stile of mine
thresheld, again
footfall of wynd,
blown open
into dope field sprung swim
mike dm Apr 2016
dropping cool green sour grapes  
into your gaping mouth
hips angling into mine
mike dm Oct 2015
im broke n homeless i dunno where to turn i am like ten tears streaming down the face of ten twofaced absentee aloof no-dogooder gods in the rain time is running out i hope im not jus character fodder for your book i err hereby reserve the rights to my genius dont steal my genius what is genius anyway why am i so tired all the time. All. Is. Not. Well.
1.1k · Jan 2016
mike dm Jan 2016
chew your thoughts with your mouth open

i want to see
all of you
teeth, tongue, throat, synapse, neuron
stammers and spasms and
flashes of crippling vulnerability
streams of lucid genius
speechlessness' met with
one single look that utters sunsets
giddy ****** kid

i want it
glitch and all
1.1k · Apr 2016
mike dm Apr 2016
her blooming figure gyrating
arcing, tilting, wilting above;
my tasting her secreting prose,
licking all the lines

that come
and go

like fallen petals hugging themselves
in moonglow spell,
lit with an aftercoil meld, blueblack waters stilled
mike dm Dec 2015
i don't have anything to say. not really. how can i when my own bones feel like strangers that pilfered a body when nobody was looking? when i speak, small echoes of some one else kindly pull at my fingertips, slipping under the nail and past the cuticle where it unfolds like sad gods found to be made of origami swimming in a sea of memes. it hurts like hell. and so, i've come to know silence. it holds me. brand new shell. my process, felt.
1.1k · Dec 2014
mike dm Dec 2014
i want
this stream of consciousness
to pool around me

but its rushed feed of tumult is
only mine to thumb through

i dip one finger in
eddies pixelate skitter strip

look and
catch a glimpse
of brilliance yet

into a

scream of conscience

funneled toward a

leading my unheld hand off
to a sleepy deep dive into nothing i know im

mike dm Jan 2016
listening to Nirvana's "Something in the Way"
and i am -now- just realizing how ******* good this song is.

i mean, the mood cuts right to the bone:

underneath the bridge
tarp has sprung a leak
and the animals I've trapped
have all become my pets
and I'm living off of grass
and the drippings from the ceiiiilinggg
it's ok to eat fish 'cause they don't have any feeeeeelingsssssss

something in the way
something in the way (yeah)

it's jus kurt on the geetar alone till the chorus, doing a simple chord,
and, thing is, he isn't so much singing as he is speaking in loose meter;
and it's almost as if between the words he is saying,
".. well how the **** could song survive this thing i am talking about
yuhknow? i am giving you my guts."

you finally get some lilt and rhyme that might be considered song
toward the end of the verse, but this is immediately undercut with,
of all things,
given what preceded it,
a joke ---- it's okay to eat fish 'cause they don't have any feelings


an­d i don't mean a joke as in hahafunny but rather
what. else. can. i. do. but laugh, else i'll cry; and I can't cry anymore 'cause
i'm all outta tears. why??
because this abyss
called "existence" - that history, heh, tells us is imbued
with rational purpose or intent, or whatever -
bats its pretty little eyes at me like a big fuckyou..

i think
kurt is, suggesting, here:
laugh back.

it's like Camus' Sisyphus:


to roll that same rock called "life" up the same hill everyday all day
and summon (somehow) a smile,

------ or at least a    s m  i      R    k

and watch as beauty bolts through your dead fecund heart
removing that
in your way
dm micklow
999 · Dec 2017
kissyface killer
mike dm Dec 2017
twofist head muscle: kineval.
but really iz jus 2:15
shoelacegazing in a prefab park gazebo.

texty fingertip slinger.
chase that dragon.
kickin fake jordans
in a tomb called Khufu

diffuse serial NOONSDAY scenario:


yuh know, that


from alphabet soup news to
netfizzle huludoodoo,
twiddling its Neros.

V iz for silent
in the actual voodoo
that’s been silenced
with dogooder silencer.

this is all so
prolly. so
follow me.

anyway resistance is feudal, ‘cause
evil doth hearts a good fight.

“evolve?! nevar!”
quoth the flat noted, dorsal
Dept. of Unkindness
989 · Feb 2017
note to selves
mike dm Feb 2017
keep it simple
just a wrinkle
calm as flower

pedaling fingerfelt winter sun

(if only
if only)
980 · Dec 2015
constellation of hurt
mike dm Dec 2015
bold glitch grip
you've been colored violent by It
code writ scrapes
large like star whorls flake

one solitary chromium petal fell
into a river with a mien of mum
where it wilted
filled with ****

and you watched it come from afar
you saw the small sun become runny
don't lie

dear scar
you must collect yourself or
the ruin of ars
will still
what is ours
into petrified mime
975 · Apr 2016
eat me
mike dm Apr 2016
this flickering heart
                    has been carved out
and framed

as light
              it beats                         
                 alongside winks of other lights
from otherwheres
where otherhearts too
                       are pictured there

           eat me
filet of scarlight
for yours

   in these
darker times
                            so that you may see more

                                it's not much
                                 but it's all i have
971 · Aug 2016
her words hurt
mike dm Aug 2016
serrated text of the other
running down purple lines
of this outstretched wrist
939 · Sep 2014
mike dm Sep 2014
Blinking cursor
Friend with benefits


And disseminate wisps
A dais for your tor
Glyph of whim

Cursor that waits
I know you
I know you all too well

You grant a world of potential
And yet I'm all knees
I bite the curb

My words spent
conferred to a
Vampiric ligerhawk Nemo

Whom eyeballs me
Into an X
New Document
911 · Jun 2014
mike dm Jun 2014
i'm so tired
of wanting to become something --
grand designs
doing pirouettes in my little head --

i just
more time
to think things through

plastic tines
stab at forks
in the road

silly you!
trying to stop the decision-making process
like a child
with a rhyme

speaking of the devil,
for a limited time only,
**** the walking dread
that paces at the foot of your being
like a thing in need --
how? thought you'd never ask ---
i'll get to that, in due time

-- i will say this though: it's not with an ax
or bow
or some moralized TV show

nothing like that

the need to be
to be --

is the imperative --
tasks tasked with go-forth --

we feed on it --
always pressing forward
always-already doing things,
going places, lurching concern,
consuming steps steps steps


progress is
a stone alone inside my pocket
-- watch it
bloom tumultuous
into a decision to be undone ----

I am
The backward startle
Flesh made text

Know this:
All will be retraced till
All that remains is
a waiting cursor --
Blinking blinking
Blank page staring
Into your you --
The mess undressed, ****** --
Don't unfuck it --
Allow it --
Let it ******* for a time

Then go hardly softly into the night
With steps alighting
Bold events of past doings lit
Given another chance

The was made present
A specter sent
To turn the insides of your bones
Into channels --
Canals of then-time (makes sense)

Get to know the script
Then flip it
Budge its molecular structure
See its words squirm
Make its serifs recoil
And strike at your command

Crazy? Yes
Impossible? Perhaps
But your verse must be heard
The play goes on and on and on
Until you decide
To interrupt it
906 · Sep 2016
mike dm Sep 2016
open your mouth --- wider
there, those are bones
roots known by the flesh

look at your fingertips
they too bear the bone
scrim ***** coverings, ten of them

the scar on your skin
observe it
harm came to you
visited you - did you


or did you
bottle it
and set it to
the dark green
murk beneath?

is it a part of you
that you shun? embarrassed
by its inarticulate language
curling and lunging

discolored other?

animal, listen
your mouth noises: mere symbol

your thoughts:
brief shimmer o' the surface

this is black
you are but blue
that is all
904 · Apr 2015
lupine heart
mike dm Apr 2015
heartspun yarn
sifting lupine
for the first time

your half cast eyes
settle on mine
they speak 10,000 words

words like zen or
fiend is not one of them

i sift your heart
undoing shoddy work

red lines
we've given you

man eater
canine runes gleam the color dread


you were cast opposite
Liam Neeson

you had no chance
you were not complex
you were
knight-n-shining armor-less

i sift your being, dear thing
seeing your you
my needle speeds through

your sudden burst of breath
a wind of sorts
on my face
evokes the majestic
yet reminds the animal

i sift you
rise to my feet
and feel

that my i
has been licked clean
mike dm Feb 2015
i prolly
jus fell out of like
w u

when u
didn't text me back
about that awesome GIF
i sent
of the white Jets
snapping their fingers
mike dm Aug 2016
margin of pen offend
rise up till elliptical
last breath thin swim
891 · Dec 2015
mike dm Dec 2015
carve the bark
you plus your love
made hard

heart needs a box locked
otherwise the feels fly

or maybe the big ought's that hover over us elide
that long hair lush inside
a sin if let down or
maybe jus one small discretion
to put behind you

or maybe it's an observance
to a rune more ancient
than history and its codes

your orb at work
his swell under spell
turn around and don't look over your shoulder
little spoon arch
wrap it in silk
spill the milk
mike dm Nov 2015
that cold, brisk sorta smokey smell of autumn tho that infuses your nostrils like an ancient tonic which abruptly awakes you from ugh slumber and blah dumb depression, and, somehow, weirdly heals the affects of those two festering holes left by energy vampires that ****, literally and figuratively
883 · Apr 2016
grape skin crush
mike dm Apr 2016
and bright orange
for your open
mouth. i adore the **** out of you,

queen of my
imagined scene,
finally traversing this

digital space

to eat
each other
879 · Jan 2017
mike dm Jan 2017
I am standoffish scar. Armfuls of hurt worm through this spar, this whisper no longer here. A thread of then, turned lead now. Eater of blue. The glib is winning. It's too much. It tires me. I'm always tired. Why? I'm never ever going to be me, again. I am lined with lines of lies lied, ******* and gagged with ballnchain blame games. It's easy to lay me. Sleeper of sleep, pulling my sleeve into childish reveries of when nothing was anything but that was ok. I know it wasn't really actually ok, but the thought of good times haunts the line dividing me between the wake and sweet release. I let it **** me
878 · Feb 2017
if you ever
mike dm Feb 2017
if you ever meet
any little differences out there,
then run: find
a yellow lukewarm,
well-lit square
to take care
of you.

all those
who loved me
i've ran from

if you ever come across
unusual syntactical arrangements
in your head,
**** 'em off w good ol'
reverent dread.

all those
who love me
i run from

if you ever stumble upon
weird words strung together
while on the bus,
cut em off quick w
well-worn scripts.

all those
who will love me
i will run

if you ever cross paths
w themes juxtaposed irrationally
in the fridge,
eat the hummus on the door ---
not the severed finger in the crisper drawer,
signaling for you to come closer;
closer still..

all those
who have love
run run ruuuuuun
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