love   apple   like   time   know   feel   heart   bed   little   life   home   red   boy   georgie   sleep   away   left   dear   ruth   gone   just   right   long   mind   hope   hair   mi   parts   say   fear   met   laugh   makes   sailing   make   tell   hands   day   poem   different   small   words   private   wish   legs   child   man   free   te   welcome   easy   apples   meteorite   smile   flower   want   way   arms   look   eyes   better   war   lie   good   thing   truly   teeth   passion   thought   work   seen   letters   friend   talk   brought   future   fingers   knew   imagination   sure   told   space   cold  la   mask   black   big   bite   age   size   shadow   petals   inane   stretchmarks   medic   we've   wouldn't   hear   tap   really   best   goes   face   gray   maybe   things   dream   tongue   forever   hate   set   room   death   need   truth   comes   night   lost   calves   pain   end   years   brings   touch   feet   blades   memories   new   core   times   dead   favorite   finally   minute   brain   hearts   getting   belly   far   rain   blue   knees   filled   stupid   woke   cream   fit   young   brown   se   fat   tan   cough   spoke   says   unlike   footprints   ******   rough   forward   buckle   blues   task   shoulder   grace   *******   reason   nostrils   firm   juice   palms   someday   mis   thumbs   screams   arguments   wobble   *****   elbows   *******   wrists   headaches   amo   pesky   ligaments   one-liners   thoughts   later   ash   clouds   lips   dreams   breath   mouth   hold   sense   taking   world   bit   speak   dance   gave   shall   ready   skin   air   single   breathe   button   peace   choices   hill   wrong   weak   close   use   quite   sky   phrase   darkness   justice   sound   unable   brave   holding   deep   grabbed   ****   try   building   paper   lunch   think   kind   stay   days   smooth   perfect   learned   care   fair   hard   grant   sweet   high   fruit   short   terms   kept   relationship   underneath   presence   water   looking   fool   sorrow   tree   second   delicate   nearly   happy   line   tall   tried   sad   satisfied   point   feels   falling   purpose   game   lazy   que   amor   agree   known   naught   loss   broke   failed   games   limp   grin   final   spring   act   south   flare   race   sake   car   large   wishes   neck   blink   knife   seeing   idea   steve   company   greens   spread   ship   lo   sally   sum   drowned   december   weep   sting   smiles   lessons   promises   successful   whistled   drowns   perfectly   pleasing   failure   brothers   cliche   harder   thirteen   ale   signs   limit   serenity   mundane   origin   chat   sapphires   handshakes   skinny   contagious   succeeding   super   refer   maturity   destination   civil   uncomfortable   collects   clack   liz   beatles   vez   attract   accomplishment   backside   throes   flaccid   audi   oneself   beastie   applesauce   naivete   bungalow   outie   there's   couldn't   isn't   they're   let's   'n   primos   primas   cantuta   fronton   redd's   mott's   innie   phallicly   tiny   fight   yo   para   walk   ****   hello   light   flash   silent   stone   does   forth   conversation   polite   green   minutes   ****   clear   flesh   couple   wake   anger   throw   torn   tangle   play   shattered   soldier   land   victim   carry   battlefield   came   darkest   blood   battle   warm   shine   reminds   lose   eye   dismay   hide   impossible   fast   earth   grab   stand   die   worse   year   people   white   story   hit   god   anxiety   realize   fall   asleep   dark   course   apart   morning   remain   beauty   ****   slowly   start   happen   remember   pray   past   easily   straight   mean   hand   driving   instant   thunder   messages   friends   old   coming   pen   seeds   shape   wasted   word   living   tore   shadows   knowing   bad   class   joy   trust   leaves   path   sun   ways   leave   meet   broken   head   weight   means   mountain   boys   true   stars   learn   sliced   naive   decided   player   actually   reality   ease   music   hood   desperate   promise   wishing   begin   miss   caressing   moan   thighs   heard   pretty   emotion   figure   floor   exotic   sand   hits   angel   awake   dreaming   probably   wins   seek   stretch   loved   tears   heartbreak   punk   walking   piece   furniture   unreachable   roots   near   deserve   simple   cats   tail   precious   lovers   loves   mother   tongues   clueless   share   taken   yesterday   faith   freedom   ripe   cursed   running   yes   unknown   feeling   going   stairs   opposite   wonder   afloat   packed   bones   acting   playing   wind   passions   dismissed   hourglass   reached   stares   mouths   singing   shaped   trapped   toll   dies   rock   trunk   discovered   especially   dull   choice   awful   patient   great   indoors   attached   thread   shoulders   warms   bright   bring   ending   drowning   sadness   winter   baby   looked   cute   beating   tight   kids   crying   ran   intoxicating   growing   saying   opposites   melancholy   gives   follow   clearly   dove   tu   soon   entwined   juicy   drown   laid   took   moved   bear   anyways   shirt   negative   clean   guide   sore   location   faux   nodded   glance   caught   chances   week   started   today   obvious   sweat   ***   quiet   laughed   worry   round   ladies   mama   smack   goodbye   rising   sides   wished   beds   infinite   positive   scared   admittedly   mistakes   meal   common   rises   toes   bullets   bound   suited   birth   clothes   belt   pounds   ground   barren   sitting   table   woe   swimming   stick   deepest   motion   cleared   sing   angry   action   sons   smiled   bedroom   wall   wiped   grins   mad   july   store   road   snow   pulse   important   adventure   exactly   foundation   trap   colors   floors   neon   outside   language   summer   north   fifty   served   wavy   kick   raw   thirty   row   changed   hanging   lied   drenched   companion   begins   strength   flies   direction   okay   stories   inky   stubborn   cloud   track   described   lover   replaced   pit   packs   circling   honest   wage   dinner   slave   paradox   faking   screamed   lightning   exterior   stopping   complete   deal   rifle   dependent   gifts   dancer   vision   students   horror   punch   anymore   pack   sagging   folk   honestly   tearing   prepared   creatures   listening   rhythm   unique   roar   card   glass   stage   desert   offered   fought   suffer   awoke   master   eating   furnace   glad   choir   graceful   *****   treasure   ships   bark   musical   strand   bee   finished   pink   slink   stronger   disclose   gravity   schedule   march   medicine   hates   weird   brush   laughs   helped   june   pitched   dumped   tense   sin   withdrawn   stem   proved   whispered   anew   amazing   louder   english   knocked   chilly   boots   false   mistake   toffee   whistle   smirk   gas   poised   buttons   bet   necks   elate  vi   bleak   decades   intention   plane   swollen   unseemly   en   sir   creeping   tells   success   doth   ***   balance   ant   fourth   fits   matters   pan   shook   tingle   dusty   reaching   thanked   careers   pile   tempt   ix   xi   xii   xiii   moms   hushed   spears   twinkling   works   fairytale   double   fighter   shocked   barriers   boot   thanks   solitary   lesson   owned   systems   groan   weekend   tomatoes   cider   calculating   drawer   partially   handy   stumpy   album   appealing   pet   unfortunately   jokingly   hotel   teacher   tag   eighteen   leg   dash   peep   betwixt   swear   attempt   inescapable   venues   worker   suit   coughed   remembers   rhyme   listed   chatter   stuff   assist   blocks   sheen   stanzas   jobs   cleaned   handshake   natural   moi   fantasy   cheers   smaller   curl   nay   leaning   frequent   eggs   cuando   el   desayuno   tus   beige   imperfections   difficult   darlings   overcome   oranges   keys   newfound   fairly   occasions   stats   ponder   pools   ablaze   rushes   fret   quell   breads   progress   comfortable   settling   desks   tile   trails   rainy   homemade   stunned   cemetery   plus   ideas   avocados   bananas   apply   latch   rocky   digress   experiences   vacation   sanctuary   earlier   rocket   precise   various   author   pie   explosions   *******   lighter   matched   plunged   isaac   jefferson   abe   measured   saturday   claw   welcoming   gear   trained   suffocation   leapt   gap   lee   disturbed   es   thrill   alarming   grill   frankly   importantly   una   fray   candied   amalgamation   nasty   american   optimism   guns   craters   contracted   rampant   unattainable   spilled   courts   carrots   shuffled   combined   blonde   forgave   artillery   sandwich   comfier   limitation   personalities   friday   strongly   crude   banana   tennis   limits   quaking   recesses   loot   andromeda   shells   playful   luckily   area   upwards   flail   largest   sappy   freckles   biology   fruition   cases   overtook   pinks   instruments   brownies   birthmark   reinforce   laptop   pirates   blinks   frontier   forwards   resonate   capacity   mumbled   marched   scraping   prompts   multiply   haiku   football   como   function   unfeeling   eighty   backsides   prompt   raced   blare   likewise   pro   chrome   gran   pears   puede   corazon   elated   indecisive   basketball   burgundy   synonyms   braced   effeminate   mutually   duties   companies   honeymoon   flailing   patted   mayo   headon   pero   misma   marveled   aforementioned   abhors   forefront   hesitating   identical   creepy   possessive   screeched   gotcha   infidelity   friction   barrage   nonetheless   disparate   itchy   apex   gettysburg   lunchtime   pickup   muchas   then   and   trading   distinguishable   pitches   bunk   ven   ladylike   encompasses   diagrams   underlying   spaghetti   soccer   trashcan   papa   disarming   finalmente   clashed   rosie   smirks   snapshot   pug   songbird   spitfire   yanks   thankfully   mesa   flexing   virginia   effectively   variations   eclipses   tambien   outrun   incident   vitamin   willpower   underdog   hardboiled   miniscule   checkerboard   entrust   siento   heavyweight   davis   thyroid   foreshadowing   frances   heresy   starburst   deficiency   sawing   peruvian   leche   antithesis   villanelle   alliteration   hora   vivir   clacking   droopy   whizzed   britney   futbol   parameters   disney   mangos   disproportionate   orbiting   tanka   stubby   intro   listo   goldilocks   teamwork   pbj   exemplifies   rey   retainer   tenia   triples   espanol   estuvo   castillo   ferrying   suficiente   racecar   dorky   garganta   veo   julio   peripherals   labios   rojos   foreseeable   frito   groggily   venn   macbook   inanely   hubo   goofball   you've   she's   weren't   wasn't   we're   others'   you'll   should've   haven't   what's   you'd   they'd   man's   boys'   god's   woman's   fruit's   orion's   newton's   lincoln's   adam's   momma's   ******   jackson's   audis   dulces   disproportionately   charon's   deseos   avocadoes   hailey   eran   beatles'   ingles   he   she   it   rackets   --   hashtag   sixty-three   duct-tape   joysticks   sherman's   15   6th   32   500   7th   2013   extraño   barenaked   tamales   6-year-old   tierras   derpy   ewell   rom-com   themit's   adan   mudpits   puddlepits   war--hell   culp's   shitpits   completaron   chocolatada   levantanse   duraznos   n'sync   huevo   cholitos   levantaron   manzanas   endurece   wozniak's   dispara   nuez   open-endedness   innies   cankles   dunder-mifflin   tunks   buck-toothed   outies   grief-blown   a-gawking

Escape from Planet Hipster
They're nostalgic for a time
When wearing the peace sign
was a revolutionary act;
Now propaganda of the deed
is free shows on ghetto borders
Craft IPAs, grandpa's clothing,
and dismissal above all.

I am the rose that grew from concrete
Budded from stones, rocks, mortar, cement, broken glass,  drug vials and bags.
I am a product of my environment.
What you thought would **** me,
Only served to make me stronger.
Evolved into a hybrid
I'm the only of my kind.
My thorns fortified with brass knuckles,
My color faded from weather beatings,
And all other beatings,
The travesty of my existence
is not lost on me.
Beauty in the midst of pain,
And what is the epitome of ugly.
I don't belong here and never did.
Wisdom I have absorbed
From rains never to come again
Rejuvenates my leaves.
Although I cannot absorb it all,
Through the cracks in the concrete.
I relish what I can
And vow to absorb more the next time,
Should I be so fortunate.
Because the concrete can protect
As well as expose my naivete.
So compelling to manipulate,
It would be ideal to control.
Impossible though.
How can you control
What grows and survives in the midst of chaos?
And at what cost to your soul?
Even through the ominous clouds,
I remain in light.
The Sun has never been immune to my plight.
Providing the strength, energy and hope
I'll need for the next season of my fight.

I could not write.  There was a drought in my mind
I could not concoct a single ****** line.  I told my wife
My dear, I think it's high time
I went and refilled my inspiration

I walked to the store, the one at the end of my block
I surveyed my mind, yet still it was locked.  I shook my head
I can't believe I waited this long to restock
my nearly empty inspiration

Once inside, I browsed the multitude of  sparkling aisles
Searching for a brand to match my writing style.  With little luck
It was difficult to find one worthwhile
to serve as my inspiration

I started reading the descriptions on the boxes
_________________
E­xtreme Naivete
Do you like Rainbows, puppies, unicorns and sparkling vampires?
EXTREME NAIVETE might be just the inspiration you need to
explain to the world why Justin Bieber's hair is just the perfect shade
of blonde.  Remind everyone that there is sunshine and happiness
in everyone's heart if you just help them find it.  Perfect for the 10
year old in all of us that hasn't yet faced the harshness of reality.

Side effects include:  blatant ignorance of the fact that most people
are complete self absorbed *******, increased use of smiley faces,
and tendency to dot your i's with hearts.
_________________

­_________________
Dark and Brooding
Doesn't life ****?  Do you hate how everyone sits around and acts like
nothing is wrong with the world?  Do you feel like you're the only one
who has ever felt this way, like, ever?  Don't get mad, get...eh...whatever.
Tell your depressing story to anyone who will listen with our brand new
DARK AND BROODING inspiration.  Tell the world how you feel like
cutting your wrists and how every day is cold and meaningless.  Write
words that are as black as the clothes you picked up from Hot Topic.  A
perfect gift for a suburban teenager of successful parents trying to rebel.

Side effects include:  Using generic metaphors that include the words
'cold', 'dark', 'lifeless', and 'pointless' to describe your life; the sudden
urge to dye your wardrobe black and gray; and wearing an excessive
amount of eyeliner.
_________________­

_________________
Hopel­ess Romantic
Is there one person for everyone?  Do you want to be able to describe
the way your heart feels in excruciating detail down to the way your
"ventricles ventriculate doubly so" when your special someone is near?
Perhaps you should try HOPELESS ROMANTIC, the newest
in our ever growing line of inspirations.  Your misguided love will
reach new heights with all of the new words you will be able to use
to describe it.  you will be so mushy, that we'd recommend not
standing on open sewer grates after using this product.

Not recommended for stalkers or near ex girlfriends.  Side effects
include the inability to wipe that stupid grin off your face, random
urges to serenade women, and the sudden desire to quit your job to
search for your one true love.  We do not recommend mixing this
inspiration with EXTREME NAIVETE
_________________

­_________________
Bitter Lover
Heartbroken? Lovelorn?  Sexless?  Have you been feeling alone
recently, but can't quite find the words to explain it?  Well worry
no more!  About that...at least.  With BITTER LOVER, you can
focus all your hatred for the concept of "love" into acidic lyrics
of disapproval.  You will be able to spew forth a torrent of
spite and poisonous barbs towards anyone who even looks
like they're happy with their significant other.  Why should
they enjoy themselves?

Side effects include anywhere from snide apathy to seething anger
whenever you hear the songs "Kiss Me" or "Linger",  the inability
to see that your friends want you to stop depressing them and get
on with your life, and the urge to get drunk and tell people how
much marriage *****.
_________________


­After I finished reading, I shrugged my shoulders and sighed
This clearly wasn't the best solution to try.  I went home
I picked up my pencil with pride
at my growing inspiration

The mug stains leapfrog a linoleum asphalt countertop, sunbathing in the breakfast nook.
A magazine proofreads a hole in a bagel. Scanning for clues to the whereabouts
Of a Jewish heart. Beads of Oolong tea archipelago from a resting kettle
All the way to the 'good ' China. A cup on a pearl, laying flat… ear to the ground.
Listening to the stories only Formica can tell. Deciphering the steam
Rising from a steep. Curling whiskers into omens, embroidered upon a shaft of light
Heaven sent. Postage dew. Gilding quaint luxuries, tucked in a cozy roost
Smelling of oak musk and slow roasted dreams, evaporating before memory may lay claim
To the riddles of Morpheus. There’s an aire of Return.  
It molts in the bacon fats hovering in the strata unique to kitchen islands lousy with active volcanoes that shuffle in stocking feet and terry cloth bathrobes. Restless and foggy minded.
Looking for the keys. And...
Chewing a thumbnail. Staring out the window. Where there used to be a car in the driveway. But the officer flagged a taxi. Explains the migraine, like a Vulcan; stoically flipping switches in a fuse box wired to a vague recollection of a soiree.
All the while holding a pitchfork and today's horoscope.
For irony and street cred.

{ But out of cream cheese. }

Concurrently... This part of the house still has the rustic naivete of a celibate beatnik picking teeth with a signature pen presenting an Hawaiian girl with a vanishing skirt; blinking in and out of Vaud-villainy, like Erwin Schrödinger’s Cat. A kind of hole in a barge with an ornate cubby; loitering with sugar cubes and a bendy plastic fern.
Like the foyer to a room, still under construction.
      A busy little metaphor, lounging around the east wing of a humble abode… like news clippings in a mason jar… it’s superfluous handle threading a ceramic eye.
Like a stainless steel joke under a refrigerator magnet, pinned to a plate in your forehead. As any lamp-shade with ambition.  
      Playing to a rough Cloud, hung over an ashtray; that has seen Better Days - envy the baroque occlusion of monotony and routine, merging a hangover - into morning traffic. Replete with modest gains.
And Horizons that stab bleary eyes that would know a gypsy
By the weight of her purse…
     When the day begins, it gains a foothold by the spine of an overdue book, reclining adjacent runcible spoons and antique kitche. As a bathroom light squeaks between a door and a frame.
As ancillary and precise as a beacon for a blindfold.

Like turpentine palming a brick. And Wagner.

He
Sat by the riverbank
He
Laughed like cold water
He
Brought to me, the ocean

He...
Where the current runs
behind, beneath
The undertow
Of his eyes
drowning Me

He
Left the scent of good-
Bye Before he’d
leave
As the scent of autumn
Promises winter
And barren, silent trees

My oars
set to the waves
To the phantom of
My sea
The wreck was me
Picking up every shell
Listening
for the sound
Of your feet
the waves
in your eyes
Returning for me
I wait with the moon
For your tides
Hazel is the color
Of the setting
Of my dreams
As they drifted away
In your
castaway-eyes


And I
Knew better
And you
Spoke plainly
And I
Heard nothing
Of the truth
That you
Gave me
But your voice-
It’s remaining
And your eyes
Are engraving
Their colors
on my canvas heart
like your initials
in my ****** bark
That leaves a wound
to die or scar
beneath its message

She hates that she is a woman
The putrefying weakness perceived in the curves of her body
The naivete shown in her blues
With the unintentional flutter of butterfly lashes
That refuse to meet the glances of those that pass by
The fear-- Of what?
That stereotypes are true?
She doesn't even know
And it sickens her.

She sickens herself.

She hates that she is white
The blandest vanilla
The marble statue
Somehow revered
Worshiped
Privileged
But simultaneously overlooked
Boring
Unimportant
The Caucasian mongrel
In light of the fact that her People
Have no proud history
Which she can name herself heir to

She hates that she is middle class
Not poor enough to struggle
Not rich enough to be free
Just situated dully in the middle
A footnote in the statistic
That they tell her she must use
To identify herself

She hates that her belief system
Has to be called by a name
That she has to choose
To be a part of a group
As part of her "identity"
And she is not allowed
To stand by her own integrity

She hates that she is American
The pudgy, loud-mouthed, laterally-speaking nation
The brashly jumps into conflict
Guns blazing
As its political system decays
In the stench of its overwhelming debt and corruption

But in truth
She hates
That they force her
To whittle her essence down
Into Gender, Race, Class, Religion, and Nationality
A *****-inducing statistic

As if there was nothing more to her
Than the facts surrounding her existence

My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.

My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.

A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.

A devilish ******* of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.

Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.

A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.

Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.

Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.

Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.

A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.

A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)

A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.

A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.

A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.

An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.

A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.

A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.

Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.

A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.

Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.

Misunderstood.
Little girl that
Could
Not
Articulate her pain

Stained on her heart,
mediocrity and other's
hypocrisy

Stop and see
for a moment that her
naivete was stolen

Bolden your mind
time for a story,
you wore her down

She shut herself off
all because you scoff
at her pain

Rain is a reprieve from the
judgment you cast
At last,

when the moment is too late,
maybe you'll see
that you created her hate

she is not without cause,
pause and reflect
before you object

Misunderstood, little girl
who's only dream was to shine,
by and by she slowly dies

watch her decay at your
misguided guide
by and by she slowly dies

Misunderstood, little girl
who believed in love
now is wrung of any

positive light,
she's blight with sadness,
and insatiable madness.

Crass she may be,
she always wanted to see
if she could shine as bright
as she dreamed she could be

Misunderstood, little girl
by and by she slowly dies
without cause, without care
you scoff at her pain.

Rain is a reprieve from the judgment you cast.
By and by she slowly dies.
Misunderstood.
Lttle girl.

I should have known it wouldn't last,

And alas, our time has passed,

I was good and submissive,

But you were dismissive,

And I don't know what I can do.



You liked me, adored me,

You though I was sweet.

But today, you called me,

And said you could see,

We were not meant to be,

Because of what we believe.



I know I'm so young,

And sweet, and naive,

I know it's crazy,

But I believe,

That age doesn't matter,

not to me.



But I guess I should see,

Only friends we will be,

But these Tim Eyes will always remain.

You carry your life on your shoulders; a swing in a park in a city, with a lonely, shadowy, ghost of you sitting so delicately. As people pass you, they stop and look, and words come to their minds such as "passion" and "sorrow," "broken benches," "spilled dreams" and they couldn't even tell you why.

You wear your heart safety-pinned to your sleeve; a grave declaration that you are not your own person. Someone has marked you, taken something without asking; this you show everyone, not meaning to, in hopes of finding a semblance of relatability. Was it normal, what happened to you? Is this a dark fog everyone lives in? You hope not.

You have an everpresent effervescence of the wrong kind. It's a nervous habit, a shuffling of the feet and a glance to the sky. It's the reincarnation of life before that day, with the tender rips of who you are now. One can only paint over paint so much; mix the colors, they will all become grey.

You've a vague sense of relief when you look around and see no one. It's a talisman, a testimony to your independence, and your dependence on lots of human-free air. It's the writing on your arm, words you shan't forget, words like delicate innocence shame tragedy naivete melody sorrow blame identity apology and the biggest, boldest of all heartbeat.

It's a short cry from here to insanity and you remind yourself that your heart beats in pride, in admonition to the evil. "I am alive. You couldn't **** me. You won't **** me. I have a heartbeat."

I have a heartbeat. I have a heartbeat. I have a heartbeat. And the little ******* the swing smiles to the sky, a premonition of her future, a confirmation of her strength.

You don't love
me;
you love the
tip of the iceberg
that is your idea of me;
the sugar-coated mute
leading herds
of unfinished sentences
down the copious hills
of his insecurity;
the nice little writer
whose constant attempts
at legendary one-liners
are as hit-or-miss
as a sitcom still airing
far past its prime.

I possess three biomes,
or, rather, three networks
of personalities and identities.
I am much more than
the Jack Macfarland archetype
lip-syncing to Cher in the one
gay bar in town, tyrannically
governing your wardrobe,
possessing a razor-sharp wit
cast toward the backs of his community
in the form of an outdated punchline-
my work on that show
lost its Willful relevance
and Graceful naivete
years ago.

I am of the generation
fed media saturation
three four-hour meals a day,
who ingested cardboard cadavers
as if they were mother's milk
and internally mutated their
thoughts and desires
to fit the compact time frame
of 30 minutes
to settle the series' worth
of traumas and neuroses
while making it home for dinner
to stay tuned for what's
next in the lineup.

Speaking as a casualty of this
inevitable chain of events,
I regretfully declare that even
those who have seen
every episode of myself
for the past six seasons
are still light years away
from the room full of faces
unencumbered by euphemism.

The foretold episode is ripe
And the childless dawn is now flowering,
The awesome parrots of Africa
Have began swimming in the heavens

And singing the verses of the paraded bees,
For the warrior of South Africa
Has ultimately impregnated the Godsbaa
Without violating her divine virginity,

The black star arouse from Ghana,
Journeyed gorgeously through Zimbabwe
And has decisively descended on South Africa,
Bu this is just the divine seed

Yet to grow into a full black African moon,
For the black star of the black man
Is the religious light yet to radiate on
The colourless naivete of mankind,

Ah, the premise behind this
Exhibition makes a perfect sense,
We did begin it all,
Pilgrimage through it all
And shall end it all,

For the wreckage of
Humanity flies with time
And the megapower status
Of the African is a fact of life,

Today, a new voice has been
Added to the joy of the black women,
Causing the dry bamboo flutes to buzz
With the pantaloons of the ancestors,

Adorn our emerald embryonic pride with
The ambrosial smiles charms of the sunrise,
For he pelts of the peerless mid-night
Has been remodeled with our dark gore.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com

Flip flip slide slide
grind grind pop pop
concentration.

hours and hours
sweat pours
bruised ankles bruised kneecaps
scraped shinbones scraped elbows
scabs and scars.

shirts and jeans torn, worn;
shoes a tattered mess--
laces shredded to bits tied desperately
clinging on to lapping tongues.

hair matted to skull sweating within damp skullcaps,
whether be it helmets (by choice or restriction),
or fitted baseball hats turned backwards,
or cuffed beanies in the dead of winter.
(father says the latter choices work well to soak all the blood up, I always roll my eyes in naivete.)

The paved driveway, where on my eighth birthday
a shining basketball goal sat at its full height
towering in the mountain sky--

stood forlorn in place as wide eyes glued to the pavement--

where shoes stood atop the gritty surface of a wooden board
with wheels attached to gleaming metal axles
rolled smoothly excitedly across the pavement in perpetuity.

destiny.

i. reward ten thousand dollars
it scares me to think you will drive me home one day, one night, one night when i am very drunk and the stars do not glisten because there are no stars left! i am sure of the reason:
upon being conceived you swallowed them all whole. this is not purposefully clandestine so much as misunderstood knowledge:
in our lifetime these celestial objects will be mistaken, much like a well-intentioned teratoma, for
cancer
countless times you will be plucked, yet unripe, from the fire that will as soon liquify your flesh and cleanse your soul

ii. wanted, dead or alive
psychosis is not a watershed.
it is an amalgamation of the bugs who have crawled up your legs and gorged themselves on your fruity blood before hibernating
it is a room of walls plastered with ******* of nauseating pale cadavers, of empty homes, of longing hands, of breast buds and tied legs and virginal lips and bare ***** and stained sheets
it was in you forever and there is nothing to blame but an imbalance, for
you are the duality of...girlhood.
you are soiled ******* and unkempt hair, abused plush dolls and sticky hands, infected wounds and sunburn sting, stale cereal and coloring pages
you are satin veils and vain slumber, tired tears and starving entrails, hesitant touch and static vhs, shrill laughter and breathy song
you are itchy bug bites. you are snow in my eyelashes.
you are a lissome angel pregnant, god bless you, with a fetal (fatal?) evil; perhaps my fear begins here, or perhaps it greets me when your aura bites my eyelids...alack!
it must be so. **** orange light suffuses my thin veins. the sun exudes apprehension and abruptly the car is totaled and
this is why you cannot drive me home. even when i have become quite inebriated:
it is not natural for the air to be so warm; only ere our galactic body closes her eyes.
surely you will **** me. you are no creature of the night. run me over; crush me between your toes; let my nectar grow trees in the cracks of this, our, every godforsaken town.

iii. have you seen me?
her neotenous thighs stick, like sap, to the concrete floor, water seeps beneath the cinderblock. dust collects between her fingers in which she clutches, with the brutality of youth, a softened - if garishly colored - carton of apple juice. four-o'clock sun pierces the thick glass window (if one will call it such) and she feels listless; rather than squint she pores over the illumination with intent that, in her unsuspecting naivete, she is not yet aware she holds. before she ***** in enough light to blind her she hears a voice that feels familiar:
come upstairs
soon enough it will be ruefully forgotten
soon enough she will realize she was bagged and thrown in the trunk
too late she will wish to exact her revenge

it... it's too small for my hands
I smile winsome to convince
the loose doily cloth of naivete
the backwards crone covered in bark
the little old lady who looks young in the dark
she belongs under secrets in a lemon grove
she's the oldest and newest in all of the park.

It was of the sand,
That found for me to stake upon this gamble of a purpose.
To onward journey, stout of heart, within it lines to draw and part
and dedicate my time to all that live and then depart.

And subjugate the sin of wait.
Dare i chance alignment.
To spite the constant vein of me.
That of constant bye.

For it was within the sands.
That truth illuminated
Divining is of destruct and of grand endeavor.
Those were lessons I to learn.
Yet warnings seen, but not to heed.

So to venture bold, embark.

Here I found myself about, a place that i not know.
Lacking proper courtesy that guides the proper tongue.
At a time of caving doubt in youth while throwing caution.
Such foolishness and acts so grave with naivete.

So of this, my letting go and future now to grasp.
Then of me to newer name and shed of me my past.

That led me to a village, shambled as it small.
Oh so sharp in all contrast,
To all i'd ever known.

And then to her so small of frame
with trouble trembling.

Did I find, i've much of want and more to givings be.

The hope I find within her eyes.
Those burning eyes aglow.
Yet shaking did i look to see, the grief she held alone.

For she with nails so black and pained
with eyes of sapphires ancient flame.
Screamed, "anne nerde"?

To this I said within my lip.
My English voice that caused such shock.
"hello", and then ,"who, you"?

And puzzled as i've not the faintest
slight that cause her hate
and run away and then dismiss
or understanding me.

That left me to the mighty awe, and my stupidity.

"Am i the image of the anger, she must see everyday,
A reminder there's tomorrow, or of horrors yesterday"?

Faintly nothing can be had, so i had chanced hello.
This is me and who are you.
And her away to go.
So i was lost to all the why,
and all who heard it so.

Then to suspect, short of counsel and left of reason why.
I shatter peace with solace small and and watch you drain your eye.

So to all that spun around
with jaws so slack with shock.
Made of this a curse and huddle?
Of what, they they took of stock?

They must be of the panic.
They must be many dead
And this is now my crucible
and now i know there dread?

" How dare i cause such great alarm? in such fleeting passing
" i said hello, only hello
and then, but"who are you"?.


All but mine
All faces white blood.

And then the moment shock!

For then i heard, "olu"!!!

"For I said, hello and who ," but she heard only death.

And forgiveness in this place
Was shown not least the trace.

Awaken this, the anger, rage  the mighty great temult.

For announced by all around  
"You utter with most care.

This place if of the teetering
and none dare hear dispair."

So please a caution with your greeting.
For broken hearts here tear

And the tokens of your kindness,
Can be swallowed up in here
Its brought to doom, this little girl by violence and it's snare
Was brought to this, by fault of tounge
bignine and shambled care.

Then better us
To purse a lip
And hope the slight be small,
The reaping can be had
But never excise fault
It is of divinty
So pray we judgment halt.
This is of the manner known
Yet are still unseen

For all the slights be large or small
None are are fully owned


And All the workings good of heart
Must be done 
and done discreet.

There's a picture of me when I was younger on the nightstand
My pudgy little toddler cheeks beaming toward the camera
I'm holding sand in my hands, have been for all of these years
I don't see it slipping through my fingers

I think it's raining outside
It splashes on my window with soft thuds
Like the sound of faerie feet dancing across your face before you go to sleep

If I fell asleep now, I know I wouldn't dream
My eyes flutter, but there's too much to do and never enough Time-
It's always been slipping through my fingers, all of these years
I just wanted to be a good person, you know?

If I actually did my english homework tonight,
Would it warn me that good and perfect were never synonyms?
I don't though
I text you instead

"... and I'm really scared of becoming anorexic," I type
"I don't want to be like that"
"Oh sweetie," you hesitate
"If you're starving yourself then you already are. And that's okay"

My mind runs blank with those words
****

I'm anorexic.

I stare down the photograph of my toddler self, her and her empty, innocent eyes
I'm anorexic.
I bet she never saw this coming

Don't let me be like time or sand
*Please, don't let me slip away

The path is crooked, long and pained,
but brother wolf walk on
for if it's rained, return we not,
all we walk is vain

The path is crooked, long and pained
the rain obscures the trail,
the scent of prey's not in the air
soaked fur and hanging tail
your dripping eyes and looming gait
tell of your arduous walk
but brother wolf walk on, walk on,
walk on and we will talk

of romance and naivete and hearts that come undone
of moonlit night when flames we met, of sparks and summer suns
live wild and young and free and bold
listen well that you may hear
this hunt, it only passes once, as seasons **** the year
but lone we aren't though wolves we are
and loyalty lies between
these wolves whose pack is not of blood
but of a bond that bleeds

vision may obscure we by the foolish or the brave
by Russian waters, or by lights, from fool's fake flame's that blaze, by passions that we crave
but through it all and by the path when by the way exhaust
your brother stops in passing by and howls "not all is lost"

for today and through the night and through the future fair
be we brother's deathly strong and princes of the air
wolves with wings and sharpened claws and hardened hides to match
we one may fly and one may dive and one day have our catch

after all we walk this path through mazened woods and sky
and after all, and after all, we'll walk it til we die

disorder from an aerial view , the other's taken turns
that crooked lead and path diverge and do our purpose spurn
warn with a whistle, call and care, "that turn will harm our dream"
give advice and give it quick, revealing everything
where brother's blind his brother eyes see not what things seem

the turning trails and easy paths left open to our paws
the trails that take  no pain to walk no effort, none at all
are oft the ones that easy take and lead our hearts astray
begin to kindle fickle flames that tomorrow die away

let not our hearts nor paws nor wings nor looks be knocked aside
but be we steady in the brotherhood and steady in our stride
steady in our dreams, and steady be in nights,
steady in our running, steady peering down from heights

the path is crooked, long and pained
but brother wolf, walk on
for if it's rained, return we not
all we walk is vain

so brother wolf, walk on . . .

The path to hell
They say it is paved with good intentions
I was never quite sure what it meant
Or who they were
But it felt right
So I did not question it
And walked on

Words are a funny thing
Things so similar in composition
So different in reality
Like ******
And heroine
One a dark hole threatening to destroy a life
The other a strong woman waiting to save you

They said the path to hell is paved with good intentions
So I let her try to help
I thought she meant well
It certainly seemed that way at first
But her presence was a poison, weakening me subtly
Destroying all of my independent strength
Making me reliant on her

******, heroine
Only one letter different
But by definition, they are worlds apart
Or so I thought
In my naivete
Life has taught me otherwise
I know things now

At least with ******, you know what you are getting into
It doesn't have a pretty facade
An alluring smile
It is a type of hell
But an honest one
One that if you commit to, you do in full knowledge
Unlike the heroine that killed me

Because **** me she did
Someone I saw as a hero at first
Turned into a villain
By the fault of nobody
Simple circumstance destroying all
The path to hell is paved with good intentions
And you can get there via ******, or heroine

That grin
enviably free of worry
should be an advertisement
for the way things ought to be.

Effusive innocence
casts itself from a
twenty year old snapshot
like juice from a fatted orange
pierced by a thumb
spitting jealous longing
on people who wear pants
giving anything in trade to
erase what they know
about growing up
to sit next to a
gleamy eyed kid
making **** prints in the earth
proudly touting a ***** nose and
Sedona sand on his Underoos.

Must we ever leave there
the paradise of naivete'
devoid of threat
absent of concern
universe of
daddy-can-whip-anyone?

Enemies do not exist
because we have not yet
learned hate.
Joy is first instinct
until we grow into fear.
The world is fig leafs and beauty
before a cynical serpent
has his way with us.

A father begs his son
"STAY THERE! STAY THERE!"
Protection is lost
outside the frame.
There's no recourse
for growing up.

Take no more of Kronos, in guilt
he speaks his secret name.
Shame on you, the brute who gave us wings.
No longer reaching for our halo,
I let forgiveness pass and regret to feed
the marrow.

And he, who finds himself wise, casts
a shadow on another day-- One who
does not pity the shrew, the innocent mind, a
naivete of perennial seasons forgotten

when the Autumnal blaze of fire and gold
became the death of Eden and
the birth of another ivory bone.

(ehyeh-asher-ehyeh)

Once I bore unkempt hair,
a crown over a wondering visage.
Twas a time of smaller age,
when a had nary a care.

I was staff-bearing and sword-wielding,
princess from times of yore
and keeper of lost lore.
But my spirit could go only so long unyielding.

For there was a mask-wearing weaver
of a garish smile
who in his guile,
had made others a believer--

Of his wicked web of rampant lies.
This wretched thief of naivete
Left not a shade of perspective grey--
but black, without reprise.

What cruel beast of human shape
was cast down upon me?
And why could others not see
but merely question with mouths agape--

At the sins of which he reveled
merely for his stature?
Yet if done after
surely they would have been compelled--

To hear my pleas
and punish his evil hand!
And then at last I might command
my woe from drowning me like all the seas.

Alas, twas not
as I would hope, you see
for fate was most unkind to me
though of wrong-doing I had naught.

"But why?" I asked
"Princesses of yore, and wielders of old lore
they know happiness for ever more."
To that end I had been masked--

From the truth before my weeping eyes
that evil always has its say
even on the brightest day,
for peace is the keenest of lies.

Like he, the villains tall and small,
from fiercest orc to goblin whelp,
will always find fate's loyal help
while heroes are left to fall.

That is how it plays on the world's stage
I have learned and learned it well
that where white snow falls, somewhere else burns a hell.
And yet, perhaps this way is not a cage--

To conquer all of worldly ways,
For in my time--made wise--
I have come to see with my heart's eyes
one for whom this pattern sways.

He is a hero brave and strong
no prince and no knight
no dragon does he fight,
yet for him could be written king-worthy song.

So perhaps, the wicked do not always prevail,
not every time at least--but most--
and get their bitter dose
of a taste of what it is to fail.

over teacup...fine porcelain..
delicately chipped....coniving eyes....scrutinised...tallying..gulliblity..naivete..desire...
wi­zened fingers...talonlike..
tattoo.....mesmerizing......
rhythms..
....­...crystal ball... occluded....
fee exchanged..... hand......
presented....lifeline..short.....
love line....broken...tarot...
offered....indecsion..
..crystal....
..­..still cloudy...gap toothed...
..contortion...cards on....
table....impaired cognative function..accedes....
fee transferred....
.....cards..shuffle..pirroette.........inverted..­.laydown misere....
palaver..delivered....twocups... happy but sad.....prince of....
.....two sheets to wind....done
in....teacup rattles......
....session.........ended..crystal ball..sphere of silence....
.......future..still..shrouded..
...wallet..lighter..­. sozzled.....
laughter...all the.......
.............fun of the fair.........

Bathing in the solemn wintery lights of the city that bears down on me like a behemoth from some great unknown celestial body, separate from our comforting little universe, my thoughts turn to you.
Dreaming of our odyssey in the stars and the way auburn locks fell across your rosy cheeks. Imagining the texture of your chin as I caress your solitary freckle with the back of my right index finger. Oh it was a long summer, the one in which we met. A summer that lasted several literal seasons whilst the metaphorical summer illuminated my life for an obscure length of time.
I observe this fickle city on a daily basis, conjuring your smile on the face of every denizen that so happens to walk my way. A frivolous glow from such a radiant being as yourself is enough to bring such a giant as myself to his poor lonesome knees.
Alas in this city of thousands I am but a rejected vagrant, captive in my quarrelsome, dissonant and feeble mind. Star-crossed and foreordained to remember you as pixels on a monitor. A distance comparable to that of the distance from Earth to Kepler-22b. I hyperbolize of course but apart from physical distance we are sequestered in many ways. Ways in which I could never bring myself to address.

I shall cease my mournful ruminations and rise from this numbing wall, the one that runs the length of the fountains and the square. I need to forget you my dear. I fear so much that no person could ever compare to the seraph I have contrived in this dense mind of mine. The angel of your impersonation, the nymph-like mother of the world and your doppelganger. That person exists not, while you most certainly do exist; although not simultaneously in my own immediate existence. I know I idealise you and for that I beg your pardon. I'm always aware of my own faults.

You broke the security of my aromanticism, destroying every notion of 'Love' I may have ever held. The word still evokes stark contradictions that war within my ever suffering head. The gaunt women that slip by me in the unfortunate  street pass muster for a smile but receive little in the way of reciprocation from myself. Lugubrious, stubborn old man that I am. The curved women that remind me of you, holler and howl at their young children, berating the psychosis of my youth. I looked to you in my adolescent naivete for the elusive mother to the world. That true Goddess that bore us, each and every one, in physicality and indeed spirituality. I could not tell you how I long for your tender touch on my tearful cheek.

Oh but I shall saunter here in my tumescent loneliness, betwixt streetlights, postboxes, houses and my fellow meandering, soulless shades. Dreaming of a day I am allowed to feel amorous once more.

Rose redoubt
Rose few, in the hate we fed
Rose acts, when charisma is a pout
Rose timid, with a live for all ahead

Round eyes of decorum, vice in a wandering hope
Let to take, a tryst of potential...
Long if tooth, a wholesome day to arrive with our own
Here is my naivete, and a steads sulking breeze so beautiful...

When the world is rounder for a secret asking, to fulfil...
Promise me, a livid course, a golden truth
To the wanted more, when we are a soul of will
The tone of our voice, becomes the drama and decency of accepting youth?

Sophistication in a moment alone, with the weight of the world
Seemingly not, before the needs of others, worth is a means to amends...?
And the coltish example of the future, a repose of justness so early
That a miracle in the form of a wish, is a simplicity we lend?

Tales of the reach, the romance of curious senses
And the heart of essence, we know even will...
When boding hours are to be, the callous works of a world come to ends
With a handful of what miracles were, a common where to the liberty of silence, so real

Since the omens of Wontehlimar, the linamen before Borker became reigning, for the static balustrade that will surround the Megaron, where all the Ibicos rings will be enlisted chorally by the patronage of the Hellenic orthodox legacy of Alexander the Great after he was rescued by Wonthelimar from Babylon, and finally, take you to your physical and spiritual shelter. The eruv of the Nótos was demarcated, surpassing the limits of the rings of stefánes Íbix, or Hoops of ibix, like nano kvantikoí daktýlioi, Nano-Quantum Ring auguring sensitize the dermis and its carpal phalanges. From the intertestamental, such as in Vóreios, passages from the Old Testament are explored here that says…: “The temple that was the only legitimate sanctuary of the Israelite people contained within it the Ark of the Covenant, a golden altar, and candlesticks of the same metal. , a table with sacred loaves and other utensils used to carry out the worship of the god Yahveh. It was located on the esplanade of Mount Moriá, in the city of Jerusalem, possibly where the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque are located ”. From this dome the larnax of the Great Macedonian, apriorism, will derive into the schismatics of ancient Christianity and orthodox Judaism, separating from each other, after the fall of the second temple. Of this class and previously this was detonated due to the undivided troops of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II, who destroyed it in 586 BC, also taking captives a large part of the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Judah, to Mesopotamia, giving rise to the exile and captivity of the Hebrews in Babylon. A reflective Borker of this premonition, he takes the Ibics Rings and selects one of them to unite them with the first Zefian Arrow, as nano Kvantikoí Daktýlioi, quantum Nano-ring, to ensue in future similar events, avoiding invasions that cause looting and destruction. of the temple to be built on Patmos. Nano-scales for Borker's nanotechnological conception, and estimates of threats of invasions and climatic changes, in one billion (109) and one billionth (10-9). In a meter there are one billion nanometers or, in other words, a nanometer is one-billionth of a meter. For those who will have to configure the dimensions of the Mandragoron "Temple of Vernarth" with carbon atoms that will forge the support in chemical units for the re-conception of nature, and its two- or three-dimensional networks. Being immanent and masterful, the nanotubes with 60 carbons distributed in 20 hexagons and 12 pentagons, according to the geometric patterns of the cellular scale, in the conformation of the Hexagonal Primogeniture, thus being concealed by the Ibics Rings for each linear meter, and cubic traced by a nanometer which is one-billionth of a meter. Here the borer beetles will catch all the ambrosiella ceratocystidaceae fungi and will displace the virals in a calculated manner from the beams of the Icosahedron.

The ranks of Falangists moved triangularly in multiple directions, to reach the Austral del Nótos de Borker, thus they would form the magical vectors of the polyhedron internally, triangulating at the tip of the ram that carries an illustrious triangular phalanx, opening the areas weak, to consolidate the buttress of the façade; the Áullos Kósmos, and pay homage to the apse that was filled with rejoicing. Sones of the philosopher Plato, made them regular or perfect in convex polyhedra, as in all their faces where regular and equal polygons were made, with holistic solid angles also equal. From this boulevard, the theology of Vernarth and Alexander the Great, fully professor and of Platonic pattern, will follow, making nomenclatures of nanostructures that affirm the volume and structure of the central sections of the radier, and its foundation bases shielded by the icosahedron in the scale nanotechnology, having physical material cells, for adaptation of structural changes and their environment.

The bulk will adapt microscopically, to analyze small particles with the return of the fourth arrow or Tetra Sagita of Zefian, absorbing nutrients and discarding environmental threats based on carbon dioxide, to make a limiting membrane beauty, which moderates the nanoparticles that were developing. borer beetles. The solidity of the partitions and walls will have the exact proportion of the nanomaterials, to adapt to the general area of the Mandragoron Nótos, which will ooze the surpluses due to the porosities, towards a volume highly resistant to invasions of limestone nanomaterials, and stony grounds that will be elaborated from the flow of the buttress of the apse that rose towards Aorion. The interior and exterior faces will be supplements of prayers of Prochoro, in didactics that will shield with the Antiphons Benedictus, and the hive of Plato's Icosahedron, becoming a consular material organism, and solid in interstices or leftovers from the faeces of the Borers, until pasting and reach the volume of the polyhedron, and its twenty faces pointing towards the physiognomy of the boulevard, tracing the general volume of the Mandragoron, and intercommunicating the supporting quantum and its post-Byzantine Greek patristic theological harmony, passing through vectors of time that run through the pre and post of temporality of the Invisible Eclectic Portal, with remarkable poles and penumbras of the contemplative orb as seven steps of liberation, and as a manumission of the wheel of time forward, where Hermes will bind him with serpents to a fiery wheel that will spin without ceasing, stopping the naivete of the 7 donkeys, and their autonomy of self-consciousness, crushing each serpent with their hooves.

Says Borker: “if the organic cells operate with homage and with greater multicellular fields, here are the nanoparticles, in greater fields of fiatto, and in the slides that will recirculate in favor of the Mandragoron throat, and in the essential carbon nanotubes elements of the biosphere and useful layers of life that roll back the rest. There will be 20 linear meters in the area that lavishes the width and height, the projection of this scale of nanotechnology, will make a three-dimensional shape and a great plump serial in the Nótos Austral ”Vernarth's purging dimension, made him materialize at times and laugh out loud because he knew that everyone who was with him loved him! , and from this fraction of faith, the Angel Raphael diagnoses them bread with archangelic essence; herb with great healing powers, especially in the dimension of the eclectic portal that allowed Vernarth to concern himself with material living beings.

Definitely the second step of consolidation of the Megaron was established in the linear from the seven donkeys eagerly left it, as likely masons and cabinetmakers who worked together with the Hexagonal Primogeniture. From this moment everything begins to have an inter-dimensional aspect, from the Invisible Eclectic Portal to the majestic geodesy and orography of this temple, which incorporated everyone for a charitable epiphany together with everyone in the Profitis Ilias, which was already crowned as the cusp Spiritual World of the Vernarthian Eclectic.

My consumption is somehow sinful but in a fabricated way that makes honey seem like cyanide, or perhaps just the opposite (, I'm not sure in truth). Delight is suppressed by my self-skepticism working to root out my faithful and trusting naivete. Somehow skepticism gets lost in my incessant wanderings and wonderings and surely in my pensive ponderings. I debate what your truth is and if you have seen the same paintings that hang in my walls and in my memories. It must be acknowledged, the chance that you have forgotten and remembered the entire Nothing. My only prayer is that you might have insomnia.