It’s 2:00 a.m.
and I’m still not the person I want to be.

Confusedly used and choosing to cycle
a doozy of a beut be abusing the noodle
a noose for the loose lies and snoozed eye libel
chewing glue ‘til you blew new bubbles in trouble

I taunt me,
like a ripcord to a jumper.

Am I toiling or roiling? Or, do I even need to be foiled?
It leads me to believe I’m receiving the peace
by impeaching the keenness of leaderless feet
indeed defeating the most royal of boyles

Safety always seconds away.
But never close enough to be chosen.

Bite-sized incisors to rise from within
riptides to ride side-saddle or be straddled with a grin
paddle again, battle a jinn: the sin-bin win-win for adolescent kids
the spirit can hear it, dinned in tinnitus