You can't do anything without the right thought.

Buddy, ole boy, or girl.

Doesn't that make too much sense,
you'll be unable to do a thing -
unless - unless you get hit by a train
a ******* void needs to land right inside of you.

A mystical being is coming for your mind,
and they are cracking skulls.
All in the prayer, that you'll figure out
that nothing from nothing is NOTHING.
Think something - think.

Beg, gravel, google
(The word is grovel, Google told me that.)

Drugs aren't words,
Netflix is inspiration,
Twitter can be a placebo,
and these can be your infinity.

Jokes pre 2000.
Memes post colonization.
Capture. Hold. Choke. Make a house pet.
Loved, but no companionship.
A corner, house plant, no sunshine necessary.

Agree with me.
or not,
I'd rather You struggle.

At least that way.
You'll fight to have your own thoughts.

if only you knew
the things i'd do for you
the things i've done for you

if only you knew
the pain i've felt on my feet
all those days spent
cleaning, cooking and entertaining

if only you knew
that i didn't have any pancake mix
but found a way to satisfy your cravings
because i wanted you to be happy

if only you knew
how tired i was
my body was shutting down
but my mind was racing with
thoughts of you

if only you knew
the time, energy and effort spent
all to just impress you and give
you a good time

if only you knew
the insane extra charge to deliver
a box of cupcakes for your mom
on mother's day but you didn't show up

if only you knew
how much i wanted to spend
time with you even if it was just
for ten minutes but it never happened

if only you knew
how much i wanted to hug you
or be near you to show you how much
you mean to me but you seemed distant

if only you knew
how willing i am,
how i'd go the ends of the earth for you,
how i'd write poems about you,
show you how you should be loved,
how much i care for you,
and how i'd give you more than the world
i'd give you the universe.

if you only just knew.

Artistically,

being a child is something always
painted to be one of flesh wounds;
one bouncing between hyper activity,
and being bewildered by a snail
after the sprinklers have gone off in the morning.

Maybe the precious life
that fills their lungs -
refreshes a child's waking moments
is rewritten to be poetry; folks panhandling for distance memories always better than ones they hold today.

We find their outlandish thoughts
to be ones of tomfoolery.
Looking at children with eyes that do not see them as people.
Instead we milk our own absurdity for rewritten nostalgia.  

Please,

Stop. Remember. There is nothing to lose, which has not already been lost before.  If it can be gained once. So may it be done again.

Children are not children
because of age or inexperience
they are everything we aspire to be,
and that is to be free.

Maybe the trauma of my past plays a part
Of the feelings in my heart that dont match my head.

Maybe my hurt tore us apart at the start
But your unfailing effort was never misred.

Wolves stay with their packs.
Penguins travel together.
Humans give their love.