If there aren’t any magnets,
left on the fridge,
You better not open,
another bag of chips.

For the magnets there,
all had clips,
perfect for holding shut,
plastic bag rips.

There is a certain love,
communicated only through the hip;
It is much more a ******,
and much less a shake.

There is a certain type of love,
that exists between:
the smell of your hair,
and the back of your neck.

There is a certain love,
that forty-four words won’t tell,
and even after sixty,
it won’t be understood well.

There is a certain type of love,
between two things that don’t exist,
and the way they do not mingle,
and the way they are not mixed.

There is a certain love,
i find, and many many more,
that express themselves in everything,
and not one thing; you can be sure.

I’ve buried my love deep inside of you,
all of it; deep down in there,
for to light your way when you go looking,
when you go looking; if you go looking.

I suppose its not hidden very well,
It only takes me a moment to find it,
each time i go looking,
what takes you.. well years it seems.

You never seem to look for it,
nor really anything else you might find,
that just happens to get lit up,
by the warm glowing fire,
in the deep space of your soul.

You have been much busier than i,
looking for love inside yourself,
You know it is there, shallow, but there.
Others have been burying theirs as well.

One day I’ll retrieve it all,
remove it from you,
so i can do whatever else i please with it.
Logically i’d want to give it to another,
I’ll probably bury it in the ground,
give it to Mother Earth,
and call it a life.

Is it truly possible,
that i am turning ****,
out of the food
i can still taste?

Sometimes late in the morning,
when they think
they should all be asleep,
it’s the best to be awake.

The days you get out of work,
I haven’t gotten out of bed.
I’ll be up all the while;
Close your eyes now,

And so the rain falls;
a new green achieved.
Would you take off your shoes
before you walk into heaven?

Just now,
as a man crouched ,
in the window behind the porch,
and i tried my hardest to avoid him,

our eyes met,
and i knew at that point.
He walked out the door,
and pointed his gun,

But before he could,
i grabbed his neck,
and i strangled that *******,
twisting his head all the way round.

His eyes that i had seen,
through the window on that porch
had light deep within them,
and i was to bring it out.

I used a shovel to remove his head,
the same shovel i used
to bury the pieces separately,
only moments ago,

And now i’m here,
with food and light,
no hatred nor guns;
only a thirst.

I peeled a heart-shaped potato today;
Its skin was red and moist,
after i washed all the dirt,
and removed all the growth.

All of the clean potatoes
did not get chopped up,
for use on this day, but
the heart-shaped potato was shredded,
with a few other spuds,
and turned into something more useful;

Than a pile of shredded potatoes,
or a raw, *****,
chunk of ****** root,
with life extending from its borders.

Quite simple really:
the operation,
to remove the thoughts
from my head,
and the heart
from your heaving chest,

and for now on
it will be that much easier
to act as one,
now that you’ve got my mind,
on you, and your heart
is mine.

Those days
the sun is sparse,
and nights
the cold is long,
will dissolve;
as our separation.

No longer the cliffs, and crags
of deep, thoughtful tumult
shall haunt my fissures;
only illumined rays of creation,
likened to empty lungs’
love of inspiration to remain.

Nor shall the cushion of pins,
trickling the wealth of blood
from your soul to its body,
feel another *****, or pang;
as its sewn into my love, our life
eternally refilled; wholeness again.

And so our planes; similarly
as i’ve got the heart from you,
and you’ve got the mind of me,
allowing us to be; most peaceably,
the best of both sides of infinity,
you are i, and i am we

replacing the time, indefinitely,
too many thoughts of you,
and too much love for me,
removing the lines separating infinity.