make mouths
pull on the muscles under the face
express self at the world we present to you
(straining it all in
through your finking eyes)

make return actions
and make us understand
that you are pleased
and that we are not just
madly flailing at this ‘parent’ business.

Definitely a trouble spot
I don't usually mind sharing myself
     with others, but it is mostly in a
     superficial way

I can't say I've tried all that hard
     to improve my ability at it

I think most of my problem is
     lack of trust in most people
     I communicate with

Self-disclosure isn't easy, even
     with people I trust, but it's not
     quite as bad

Needless to say, there's a lot of room
    for improvement

Oops,
I've sprung a leak.
Eyes stare on in disbelief
while the soul seeps; loose fluids leave.
The high is passed the peak.
Senses ascend to heaven and hear Myself speak.
The body is numb.
Arriving
to find passion is gone.
Self-destruction to atone.

I don’t need a crutch for creativity
I am clearly clutch creatively
Knowingly nurturing
Flowing, I’m furnishing
The room inside your mind
That you needed help to find
The grape fresh off the vine
The soulful spark of the divine
That which you can not define
Unrefined but never crude
Intimate but never lewd
Food for thought:
I consume thought for food
I transform it into rhythm and mood
I transmit it with my attitude
Take you to a higher altitude
Flying oh so free
Through clouds of crisp creativity

Dear indecorous,
Used only from time to time
The word for our day

You are exacting
Better than unbecoming
******, or ill-bred

Ungentlemanly
Incorrect, inappropriate
Unseemly, or indecent

I got to rediscover my lost communication.
Open up and be a receiver for enlightenment.

-

[Note : i am flushed with heartbeats,
fast panic breaths
and thought.
i have overwhelming stream of ideas]



...it’s ridden through in our flooded veins

it’s furnishing our museums

  it’s marred out on parchment

     it’s mated together in privacy


      [Note : i tighten my eyes closed for relief]


     forbidden

      persecuted

     tried and executed

    preserved in wetland peat

   it can be called out

without the feed of the moon

without the woe of the ocean


 [Note : i clamp my hands over my ears]


senses

census

pleasured

genetically vetted

it can be rutted out

  falling **** through the generations

    the speed of the molecule

   or flitted across our grid electrically

    microscope

     magnet

     telescope

      prism

      morse distressed

     music

    pressed

   repressed

  and invested against

through historical text

it’s collected in your visage

and yawned back at you

  off of your morning mirror

   it’s in your needings

    your trolling of prayers and personalities

     and the breaking of your vocal jockery

    
     [Note : i dry gag and go silent]


     information is energy

    not erased

  but converted...

   ...and then nothingness

    an unwearable yelling void

     expanding pressure-less

      precipice

       rapid

     the immense feeling

    of feeling nothing

   the code/no-code

  the necessary ill behind the facade

of the purpose currency


[Note : my thoughts slow,
i note my breath
and my heart]