slumbering cream-cheese on the tip of
an unhungried tongue... in past lives,
we met and you called me crazy. for
once, we are on the same level and
neither of us are not untethered in
the nether of whenever. kindred
souls know how to laughalot,
whereas unkindred soulzzz
bite each other with
elongated continuities
of 'Zed.'

we are perhaps both of these
at different times, but there
is never a lack of love tho
a lack of passion might
have done us well as
well as done us
harm all
depending on how
bent-outta-shape we'd
cared to be. there is
nothing inside of me
that says winter more
than holding yer hand
down the length of the
pole-line while you wore
flats and freezed and
I was too afraid to talk
very loud becuz a small-
town meant solitude and
I couldn't stand solitude
as I wasn't a solid, but a
gas and a liquid too afraid
to become the temporary
icy toothache of a transient
season.

I will love you forever,
but don't tell yerself that.

there's a dead guy in the body,
but he's only fast asleep.