i was not awake
when this happened.
so it had
to happen...

and that's how it works.

It's called Life...

For
no
Reason.

You're either
used to
it.

or Not
Dead.

and that's where
poetry comes
from.

Sooooo ~~~

You are alive
or else
you wouldn't have
the option
to die for
nothing.

the crown was heavy like an oil lamp bolted to a block of black marble, strapped to the surface of a neutron star
with a strand of hair from a severed head of Guinness
and all promises.
the king stared out into the palms of his hands
and cast his eyes upon the kingdom of misrule.
contemplating the arc of His royal arroz. mindful,
that for every grain of truth, a sack of arrowheads.
And for every bag of rice, a happy surf.

He lifts the embargo and now openly trades bards with competing Theaters of War and Peace. Boldly poaching inspired contradictions and holding court with renown arguments to the contrary; always feasting at a long, narrow table in an oblong chamber
of proprietary stars.

He lifts His Eldorado, and now
his back hurts.
Having never learned
to Bend The Knee
At the hinge of
His stride.

And now it's off to bed and goodnight.

Like a tendril of Avalon, coiled around an indifferent chivalry
our quests are jaded, and our gods Chimera.
We are all of us marching over horizons, but only the ones
the width of our eyes.
And merrily we surge into the shimmering fictions
of our most noble pariah.
as the devil sells candy to rock salt, for fun and profit.
but we know

He's just showing off.

But he's not lying.

i was born on a Someday.
and You are the only one
that knows.

it gives me
chills.

it gives me answers
to questions, i have yet
to imagine.

it gives me You.

Agatha Abernathy slapped clay on a wheel and spun with her bare hands all manner of things to hold in your mind. She slept through thunderstorms as if a storm front were a blanket. There was no such thing as too many cats; and marmalade was a condiment.

Agatha had nothing to say.... And nothing to keep to Herself.

Can't Push A Cloud With Your Hands

you can't walk out that door
and expect me
to stop loving you.

it doesn't end.
it just kills me.
endlessly.

you can't
push
a cloud
with your
hands.

even when you're
not into
me...

Love's Entropy...