Too content to write
even about exhaustion
from working so much.

Connection is best
when mouths are lubricated
with honest intent.

Marking my worth[lessness]
by defacing my template
with the corroded hands of others
who spend their time chiseling away at
life’s most imperfect perfections
  Embroidered with a cross stitch
ravelling us all together in one big quilt
showcasing one’s collected patches

Finding myself unable to convey
my lack of conversation skills
or the assumptions that I already know
and everything I could do is better than this
and I deserve better than this--
what I choose to accept
will never meet my own standards
as my standards are based on accepting others
but my other side lives in a fantasy
and believes what genuine souls tell me
which is I “deserve better than this”

Maybe I don’t, in a parallel universe
I can’t accept what I want to believe
because I can’t explain why I accept
   “less than I deserve”
when I’m unsure of what I deserve in the first place
What deeds have I done to merit great things?
Is my moral compass pointing north or south, east or west?
Does it matter when each way leads to eternal rest?

Opportunity
knocks when you've stopped answering;
Open the **** door.

Uncertainty *****
with me mentally. It is
a bother to me.

Spiders devour
not just their mates, but even
their own genus kin

Taking things slow
but certainly daydreaming of you
every chance I get.
Maybe I’m just taken
  by the idea of it all
  because ideas excite me
and I want to manifest them
but become overwhelmed
   with taking it slow--
I do the opposite.
I feed on the ideal
and swallow the real
without savoring every bit;
I narrow my scope
and remember static feelings
so my body doesn’t forget
that I’m switched on your circuit,
charged and ready to go,
when I should be focused
  on taking it slow.