Do you prefer
A circle
Or a square?
Lean into the curve
Or
Corner sharply sheer

You can fit either
Inside the other
Alternating
Ever
Down there
Until
You
Reach
The
Planck
Length
And
There's
No more
Room
To
Spare.

A pen and a paper
lying on the table.

The paper asked the pen,
“Why don’t you write?”

The pen replied,
“I’m not motivated.
I don’t know what to write.”

The paper said,
“Write a love letter.”

“Why?” asked the pen.

The paper replied,
“Because I want to be kissed.”

The pen couldn’t stop laughing
and fell off the table.

It's Christmas time
And there's no need
To be afraid
Announced Geldorf
As Xmas unfurled
Well that's some
Irresponsible advice
No joy to the world

Prezzies ragers
Drunken drivers
Undercooked turkey
Icy conditions
And dont start on
The suicide rate
This season
The Reaper's
On a mission.

The kids call
Hot dogs
GLIZZIES
These days
I wonder why
But I decided
Not to engage
With what might be
The description
On the
World Wide Web
Instead
I think
My own
Legend
I'll invent
Does the glaze
Glisten
And that's
What it is?
Or perhaps
Glissando
The smoothness
Of musical change
I don't want the answer
As it will surely
Fall short
Of
Greeze
Mustard
And onions
Not forgetting
The salt.

Swollen fingers, fevered head,
Pressure and tearing of purple veins.
Pills, side effects,
All this pain to join this living race.

The peloton far, far ahead,
And here I climb a slick *****,
Thinking: I can’t manage,
I don’t cope anymore.

Bills sharpen, sharky credits circle,
No funds to stand upright.
Sweaty forehead, stomach clenched.
How good that with a smile,
Still carrying a tender, loving heart inside.

It does not matter where I was placed,
What name I bear, where I am from.
I am with myself 24 hours a day,
No vacations from endless thought.

With words I cut,
I healed what was ash,
Waiting for redemption
Even if I failed a thousand times.

I recognize myself in every human face:
In tightened lips and widened pupils.
As much tenderness as cruelty,
As many warm nights as skies of lead.

I have never wanted to be a false saint
Only tangible punched letters on the page
Still scrubbing my scrawled future
And hope that tomorrow
I can do it just a little
better.

kisses.
feel them
the tension and aliveness
they’re loaded with psychology and social context

its an intense observation
mouths connect our inner and outer worlds
they cross the exterior-interior divide
they’re simple forms of passion and expression
but they’re drastic and emphatic

I wrestle with wildness
I desire less breathing room, less layering
I riot with instinctive response
I long to obliterate feminine’ restraint
and share inner experience
.
.
A song for this:
Only Love Can Break Your Heart by Saint Etienne
Fly Into Your Arms (a cappella) by X-Cetra
As Above So Below by Fievel Is Glauque