—SHOW TIME—

Sorry for the way I stumbled into your life.
I swear to God-the floor was pulling at my ankles…
also! the celling top was giving me a backside high-five — the moment I finished the fifth and after the sun turned off the lights.

I embarrass myself each time I try to embrace this side,
cliche as falling in love like a rerun television show—
freaking out like a pubescent clown realizing he should have grown up to be a mime;
a silent touch of romantic irony, laughing at my own jokes,
until this awkward moment flies out the window…

stop me if you heard this one before;
why did time grow wings?
to fly by like a crow squalling-
that it is past time you should be married…

—PUNCH LINE—

unreliable communication
=
incomprehensible interpretations

being an addict to tragic accidents-
known as flirtatious Failures fulling the fire
of the metaphorical dying flicker to the love life of our protagonist-
this is precisely what was prophesied
from a poet’s birthday candle wishes.

it’s funny how Lady Luck and cousin karma have this affair of misfortune;
capsizing all relationships—
that were set to sail—
hook-line-and-sinker stationary in an icy-burn isolation.

hopefully time can thaw out this doomed  autobiography (of a poetic confession trapped with 4 borders boring the audience awaiting the same confession)
he has been struggling to sense together,
since the first line that was typed…

—MAKING UP MY MIND—

so I stand up with a straight face—
swallow the frog and eat the butterflies for breakfast—
walk up to you with full intentions,
with a sly grin you echo the words I mummer; just as a mic in a crowed place,
I repeat in a shy broken throat-making me more of a fool from the words I chose-
latter to laugh
and just to write about
how embarrassing I made our very first date…

humanity vs insanity;
a joke vs the punchline;
art captured in a single sentence-
such an inspiration seeing the beauty in pain-
a story of how life is;
absence vs abuse ;
addiction and his muse;
just one more semicolon to the self aware audience that this  triumph continues;
despondency of a tragic backstory leaves complacent agony of a stereo-typical-dictionary-picture-perfect-literary-school-subject­-finger-snapping-cloaked-poet-eddy-outcast-finger-poking-laugh-st­ock-lesser-person-desperate-feeling-introspective-adolescent-prot­agonist-of-the-1sided-tragic-heroic-epic-anthology-of-a-dark-mind­ed-online-persona-posting-exposed-person-caught-lurking-only-want­ing-something-someone(?)-person-love(?)-showing-only-rejecting-cr­iticism-critiquing-only-meant-toBe-helping-overthinking-over-thin­king…

Over
Thinking

tripping so hard licking dry cement
talking so wack losing all common-sense
dreams so dead what did any of it meant
babe’s flesh feels like plastic meat

eyes all wide LOOKING RIGHT AT ME
EYES ALL WIDE glares just like a creep
no one speaks RESPECT THE DEAD
NO ONE LEAVES this is the end

delirious hyperactive paranoia
delicious hypersensitive paraphernalia
spongebob episodes play out like a poem
sobbing like a hobo in my motorhome

in a bleak  betraying  whimsical way
I want to lay in the desolate snow with you.
paraphrasing how poets say
I want to grow old with you- so I’ll try:

<𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 & 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦>
melancholy = mediocrely
medicinal = manipulative
promises = broken    

clichés and critics say my love is predictable and scripted
that I’m foreshadowing tragedies or my muse is figurative
I never did well in English - but you made me pick up the pen
I never thought I’d fall in love - but you make me want to do it again

I care less who sees this - except you
I’ll just take another hiatus - until you tell me how good did I do?

the shine of her shrine brings fair smiles to some,
young lies fester and spread faster than flies hatching from larvae.

Days by days - weeks at a time - content is a constant crisis to our protagonist

summer is welting while winter is begging to stop the talk of death,
but change is soon - somethings are better not stopped; the same as letting the flame from the candle die with the room...