I am not a robot.
Underneath this skin
are tissues, and organs,
bones, and liquids,
none of which were constructed.

I feel real things,
and try to understand them too.
I have not masked intelligence,
emotion, and humanity;
dissected and interpreted
the world around me,
and plugged it in.

My brain is human;
it did not learn human,
but lives human.
It was not programmed,
and taught human.

I receive no signals
from remote remotes,
and super computers.
I do not speak code;
only human

I am irreplaceable,
repairable and invariable.
I will learn,
and what i do not
will destroy me;
like any other
human being.

It hurt to leave you last night.
Alone in your bed;
Asleep in my hands.

How lovely to see the comfort,
crawl up next to you,
and lull you to sleep.

A peaceful, restful sleep;
with your little silken thing,
and **** hanging out.

The kind of sleep that i don’t get;
with sweet dancing thoughts,
and wonderful activities played out
like a lovely little matinee,

and all the while you playing in your head,
and all the while you lying in that bed.

You reached for me as i left;
not consciously i do believe,
but some part of you wanted me to stay.

That was that part of me that hurt,
as i walked out your door.

You’re a fool,
but aren’t we all.
At least you do,
what you think is right.

What is right?
I don’t think;
I don’t right,
and I don’t wrong.

Those stars in your eyes,
the ones you follow;
You put those there,
but at least you follow.

When the fog clears;
the ethereal thought,
thick and encompassing,
You might catch a glimpse.

On our level,
truly it isn’t clear,
nor should it be
on this level.

Clear is clear,
regardless, or not
if that’s happening;
here.

You’re a fool,
and so am I.
At least you think,
what you do is right.

To consist of feather and bone,
is but a great honor.

That which gives weight to existence,
and bares all its strength and weakness,
ever changing, and yet ever present,

And that which gives life
the opportunity of flight;
to take its structure,
and let it soar.
Gaining new perspective;
giving it as well.

These bones they will break,
and feathers will fall,
But fear not the death,
for it would not exist,
without the life preceding.

Give thought to that which you are made;
Be conscious of the fleeting thoughts and emotions
to which you give flight,
for there is no greater gift,
than the solidity of our matter,
and the flight of our being.

“Take me away.”
she begs of you,
and oh how you would,
if not for..
what? for me?
for you?
for everything.

funny thing,
about being in love,
with yourself:
there’s no room,
for anything else;
for everything else.

“Where?” does not matter,
for wherever she will find:
You are outside expectation,
and she outside comfort; control,

and y’all may not realize it, but
you won’t ever find yourselves there;
only what’s left of that being,
when it differs not from everything,

no need to discuss “when?”
the time is only now,
and now is your chance;
to exit the womb,
join the fireflies,
up, up, and..

always ahead,
a quiet mind,
and freedom to move,
flourish, to be;
not only what you are,
but not as well;
everything.

Looking at you,
through dream eyes.
A colorless light,
cast upon your figure.

an image reflecting,
upon itself,
has no start,
and has no finish.

The ether is dancing
around your pretty skull,
outwards from your heart,
and into the nothing
from whence it became.

I’ve got your memory,
sitting right here,
on my tongue.

Should i just take a bite;
Break open
your ‘hard’ exterior?

and on the inside,
so fresh, so sweet, and tangy.

This **** is so artificial,
i take you in;
i wont let you out.

i reach the bitter,
i wish this were better,
i’ll spit you out.

You don’t mean a thing,
you don’t mean anything,
you don’t mean a thing,
you don’t mean anything; to me.

When they say,
“don’t lose your moon,
while you’re staring at the stars.”
They really don’t mean
your moon at all,

Your moon will always come back,
here on Earth,
and she will shine, shine, shine,
until its time to take a break.

Always near though,
never too far,
waiting to be reached for,
and ready to glow,

Instead; when you loose your baby,
she is gone, gone, gone,
no matter how far,
it’s never near enough,

So you float towards those stars,
those twinkling stars,
and just know:
she’s probably doin’ the same.

It’s days like these,
that make the owls,
forget they are nocturnal.

The sun is shining,
illumined fog above;
leave your sleep,
enjoy this love.

Sit up slowly,
open your eyes,
morning dew upon us,
dreams realized.

Wake up slowly,
after many tries,
dark as the evening,
the sun is not yet high.

Forgetting inhibition,
apprehensions all at bay,
an easy time as this one,
still tired from yesterday.

i feel the love,
you left for me,
when we went our different ways.

The night is dark,
and time is long,
but this owl is seeing beautiful days.

I would not have dreamt of you,
If not for sleeping on your couch.
Surely that is the only reason,
You were on my mind at all.

As i try to rescue myself,
my thoughts, and my actions,
Somehow you came crashing;
crashing in.

Your involvement was minimal,
in my dream last night,
and in the memories of my past,
You served your purpose,

And since?
You’ve come to remind me,
All the things I have worked so hard,
to give up

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.

You were supposed
to elevate as well,
and i know;
if this is elevated,
who would want anything
to do with it?

But really now
we were here once,
and you left,
and so i am here;
left with a silly decision:
to have it all, or void.

i was looking for a reason,
to get out of bed
this early afternoon,
but found none,
and got up anyways;
the love was in my pocket.

I am grateful to have nothing,
want nothing,
and be nothing.
Perhaps the picture painted,
on the blank canvas,
was there all along.