there's a special grace about the way it flows
in and around, back again
with a certain sound, there it goes
twisting through to the end

Dragging my knuckles* on the sidewalk
      I find myself hoping for a *spark
     that would confirm my mechanical makeup
        Titanium and servos buried mere inches beneath faux flesh
        Scraping concrete

         *Friction, it would seem,
           is the only force powerful enough to reveal me to myself

It's a blessing and a curse,
    this connection that we share
A balance between the love we feel
        and how much we should care

A poet's supposed to only post poetry
     If I try to do anything different under a pseudonym
They'd know it's me
               They're not too dim
  To shine a light on similarity
             Between two varying laugh tracks despite all the hilarity
        Been getting down to brass tax with a microscope
       I could read the fine print even if both my eyes were closed
     So tie the rope tightly around your own necks
                          As I work far outside of my trajectory from how I make the bow flex
         If I was Archie mixed with Cupid
          I would
    Follow an arrows arc like an archery marksman whose targets are Betty and Veronica's beating hearts
    And when they get hit,
        They both fall pretty hard
      And meet me in my back yard where I get their backs archin'
         Point is, I've got precision aim
    When I'm shooting for emotions
            Make you never feel a thing
      Make you clear minded and focused
             Let you all in on my pain
   Have you buzzin' like a locust

Our hands held each other
Yet, I missed you anyway