I'll show !
And you tell !
And sometimes   I can't tell !
And when the showing is telling,
and the telling is showing,
I can't make hands nor tails of this
entire whole game !
Tell me what I show !
Show me what I tell !
The class applauds !
But then the class is silenced !
And in where in which, in each of there and this, does my lies amiss ?

And are we to subsist away from the realities of bliss
where every of note
is either just a hit or a miss ?
A miss that is a hit ?
A hit that is a miss ?
Then where do we resist ?

And then why does your gravity send me a kiss ?
Is it because my skin reeks of its
deprivity ?
Its lack from that plan to longevity ?
longing lastings of the lasting
longings ?
the fasting of the wrongings done to
the passing belongings ?

It validates them to strengthen their writing prowess,
no matter what it is they write.

And with all of its power, the sins would just
seem to land upon him.

My dad keeps calling me a dreamer-
the wilderness and the trumpets just
always called me
to amber shores.
to the violet sunsets.
to something beyond.
yet something familiar.

for,
my eyes to feast on their glory.
like shifting simulacra clouds
of platinum dragons and
sunny sky kingdoms.