Here I am
Again
Mumbling excuses
For my misuses
Of any likeness
to rhyme

with great writing anything is possible
and sometimes we have to write that disorganized poem
to get our thoughts out
we write not to please you
to be judged by your biased eyes
but to cure us of our troubles
in the best way we know how
and to me every line is perfect
every syllable, word, and sound
I write not for your benefit
but entirely for mine

I like your eyes.
Your eyes are so blue.
God, I just love your eyes.
Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?
Nope. Never.
You’re a great kisser.
Where did you learn to kiss like that?
From other guys?
You know, you're smart.
You might be smarter than me.
Is that my cue to leave?
You want to hang out?
What do you want to do?
You eat meat, right?
Ok — good.
Would you dump me if I didn’t?
I like your shirt — it’s open in the back.
Really? I wasn’t aware.
I looove your ***. It’s just like mmmm (cups imaginary ***)
Yea. I know.
(After ***) Wow. I feel great.
Cool. Thanks.
(After ***) You finished right?
Nope.
You are so young.
*Hmm, what happens when I get old?

Sweeten, let’s, a coast of dun
Therefrom which, the tides erode,
A castle to blind the mighty sun
Affront to that Poseidon, and others
On the beach.
***** the walls and battlements
Fair crystal arm the turrets
The audience of the hermit *****
Pay silent homage to the throne
Intricate are its libraries, etched
Our history inside the tomes.
Only grains of perfect stock
From which antiquity, in full credit,
Will revere the lot
And poetry of human might
Shaped and forged to kiss the day of light
Only  that may suffice.
In this endeavor, no ancients will tenet
Its salty beams but the children of the morn
For we shall build the universe
From when progenitors are born.

Before it began, we were dismayed
Our future, castle, by waves waylaid
Aspirations sink, now, from shape.
But, Gods, I curse you!
Let my destiny rise free!
Look now before you:
A stone in ocean of mediocrity!
All these that build up forts
Lack in that spirit to fight, retort
**** you, **** you, waters of my doubt
Turn false the shades of realism
Which I thought it all about
**** you, **** you sands of time
For now all that founds my dreams
Is erosion of the shoreline sand.

Some days I drown more than others
And some days I can't write a single word
Other days I can write lots of sonnets with lots of words
That don't say much at all

Today I am drowning a lot more than usual
And I can't quite catch my breathe
long enough to write so
I typed this instead