naked skin,
sun-baked brown and sunkissed freckles, and ***** white, an olive from overseas.
we traipsed down the road, the never-ending black of concrete.
we yelled. we screamed like there were marching bands in the cages
of our ribs.
we drew in smoke and our instruments played the music
of lit tobacco
“you're a hurricane”
one of the best things ive ever been called

cut skin,
as blackberries slapped our legs,
leaving marks of red and purple,
as we ran through secret forests,
our laughs rising into the sunshine,
filtering through the leaves,
like chiming bells in an empty sky
we started a fire, dancing as earthy smoke
slithered on our skin.
we lit cigarettes in the flames.

icy skin,
as we stumbled,
springs bubbling inside us,
down the brown, mud painted hills,
and cried in wonder as we saw a treasure in the thicket of trees;
a frozen lake staring us straight in the eyes like an
antarctic cyclopes,
daring us to take a step closer.
first, tentative,
then we went rawly, crashing through the undergrowth
like small houses,
headfirst onto the ice,
with all our skin for its one eye to see,
our clothes in a mountain,
and our vulnerable bodies free
on the cold surface of a
secret winter in the middle of a
sun coated town.

warm skin,
as we raced down asphalt mountains,
like goosebumps on the skin of the earth.
we ran like tigers and cougars and cats and
lions,
roaring in the afternoon sun
as we embraced the completion,
of a four piece puzzle of our
youth.
warm,
as throat burning brandy from the womb of my couch,
and burning pain
as we poked holes into our skins,
red tattoos of a flamelike
trilogy.

red skin,
as blood dripped down through the
cracks of the Balcony,
as we painted the walls with it,
laughing squeezed between every
long drag of our cigarettes,
burning like two new stars in the
oncoming night,
tattoos and shapes appearing on our skin
faster than bruises
showing a young girl the ways of our corruption was almost as
fun as learning them
ourselves.

goosebump skin,
as we sank into reality again,
halfway in,
other half still shaking
hearts beating fast
i trembled
as i screamed across at a cat eyed girl
i was too shaking to fight like this,
and you are too lovely to cry like that,
and my dear sunshine,
your blue hair is almost as soft
as your voice floating in the
after dusk darkness
assuring that things would be
alright.

tired skin, as we lay on my sheets,
and kissed one anothers soft cheeks,
tired skin as we dragged our drugged up
skin
all the way home,
in a careless sack.

yes,
maybe “three ****** up girls”
one tall, soft words,
one kneeling on the pavement,
one shaking like an
earthquake,
but thats what makes it like
dawn,
beautiful.

wouldnt you rather be a tornado of impulsive decisions
raw twilight words
whiskey ridden breath like summer
air
sunset tears
and icy skin painted with shivers?

alive skin.

My lips are still blisterin,
From all that whisperin, that
Made me kinda sick, so I
Search for my chapstick, but
Find in it’s stead,
A pen, orn’ry and red,
That chooses to be used,
And true to my cue, I
Seclude and intrude
On each and every muse-
-ic, -ing, -ment, of my peers.
And its clear I have seared
Every page I have seen
And heard of my herd,
Pulled apart at the seems
Teeming with teams
And half-assessed dreams, that I dreamt
But have since beheaded like queens.
Yet who is the jester? The joker? The fool?
It’s me from your world, your country, your school.
It’s me who coos uncool, and caws too rawly
And so rarely, Even I’m a bit scared of me
No! No fear or fervor is necessary, tremors and
Heartstrings tremble headlines on the Daily.
Oooh, calm, soothe, my tongue, my soul, my lips,
I’ll cool them off but remember all this, or else you
May be blistering, and searching, for my lost chapstick,
But be lacking in trust, ‘cause I used it all up,
Quite a long time before you even lusted that luck.

I miss the beautiful sadness.
The tears tasted like cream,
Fears turned me pale.
A quiet sadness.

I was so pretty,
Smaller every second,
Floating away in tenderness.
A whisper,
Then silence.
What more could I ask for?

And now I’m more.
Taking up more space,
Filling more holes.
I’m too much.

Now this..
ugly sadness.
One where I grow
instead of shrink.
My face is pinker,
My stomach splits at the seems,
tears taste like *****.

If I go,
It will not be a whimper,
But a scream.
Rawly honest,
and rancid.

Still,
I think I’d rather be
a beautiful lie.

Every other guy before you,
somewhere between midnight conversations, interrupted by coffee stains and the dreams that woke me up to talk to them, I fell in love.  One listened to history podcasts to fall asleep. One made me skip class so he could drive me two hours out of town and show me the home he grew up in. Another, used to draw my hands on pamphlets hidden under the pews at the back of the church. And each of these things is the seed, sun, and soil for my affection which maybe you understand, because someone does something you respect, admire, and want and all of a sudden, bam, they're so much more than they were before. And with every single person, I realized. I realized I was in love with the presence of their words and the feel of their existence.
But I did not love them.
I met you, and you wrote love stories on my flesh with your finger tips, and I saw your eyes groan with exhaustion in the morning, and you taught me how to be a bigger, better, stronger person. Every day with you feels like a Sunday morning with crisp bedsheets and lazy smiles, and you took me until my life wasn't mine anymore. You took me as a hostage, you got inside my head, piece by piece you disassembled my suit of armor and showed me how to love a person, rawly and deeply and I could never be the same after that. I loved who you are. The way your hands held my hipbones and your lips stole the end of my sentences, when we would drive home from the beach in your car the sunset would be blossoming with love. I don't know what to tell you, other than a giraffes heart ways 22 pounds, and when flies fall in love their entire brain is rewired to only knowing loving each other, and when one dies their memory goes blank. And my loving you was never about what I could get out of it, or what you could make me, but how full I could make you. And if I can't love you as a lover, I will love you as a friend, or however the song goes. But I know what I need in this world, and it's hidden behind your knees and in your hair and sometimes sits between your shoulder blades. And I know sometimes you can't decide if you want to *******, break down and cry, or eat a whole pizza but the entire spectrum of who you are reflects all the pages I could fill with the reasons why you are a spectacular person, Adrian, and you are the one, sealed with a kiss, you are my sun and stars, my stormy night, and you are stained onto my skin like the scar on my knee.

And with my ****** and romantic "experience," that you think I have more of, I promise you no one could fill the space you left. And even though what I gave you and how I loved you might not be what you want, I can also promise you no one will feel like that about you ever again. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, you decide. And even if I don't have you, I will have every single memory. I will have the drive-in, I will have the row, I will have lying in the grass outside my house, holding you. And I will never forget what you made me.

Strong and sturdy,
like a well-believed lie.
Your arms stretch out
grasping for some kind
of truth. What has
your face seen? So
weathered and creased.
I wish I could fall
into you. Put my feet in
the earth. Grow as strong
in my convictions as you
do to withstand time.

Is it crazy to want your
strength? Can I put
my hands on your
roughness and myself
become rough? I want
my limbs to bear the
weight that yours do.
I want them to stay
strong through never
ending change.

Is it crazy to
want your strength?
A strength so rawly
beautiful and intense that
nothing short of
death could diminish
it?

I want to learn
your unspoken
lessons. I want to sit
and listen to the wind
whisper your secrets.
I want to hold a lifetime
of experience under one
stern mask. I want to
be strong and sturdy.
Like a well-believed
lie.

all lips and spit
rinds glittering pleasure
i'm lean sinew knotting heavy gasps
at nails and texture rawly rumples
     the divine shale
your pertinent flavor strums a tattoo polished on my back upper
      sprouted feathers
how contracting desperate talons
                      grapple cotton bedding
shouting mumbles of lipbiting  
         sweat
                         in tremulous arcs
of ***** lint
                         i gravitas  surreptitiously
  the cradle of your spark spitting electric engine gloved
in black hard fuzz
                                  tickling the moist
       tremor of
                          my rose petals splitting
tongue delivers
                              screeching        love

heaven pinkly the
distinct hurt of your

       armor's folded

breach is
so
rawly
sore with

                 lust heaven and
so
sharp with

wetness heaven
letme
(heaven
               )pierce your folded
armor's
coiling cherry
with
my hand's
ablest
jousts heaven let
(when you're
ready                      heaven ) me i'll
smoothly
                shudder
                           ­   smother
                                            salted
honey fingers
heaven i'll
                         deeply tickle
                         your hurting
                         bones lusting(heaven)

these intense feelings
from the contrast you bloom
are the delicate roots
to the flower in you

please do not settle
for someone who wilts
your intricate petals
with their own self-guilt

because they can’t see
the light that you shine
through all of their weeds
they’ve yet to define

be unapologetically you
to all your degrees
and rid yourself of those
who cannot agree

for you form the cosmos
with every ounce that you feel
let it seep from your seams
and don’t ever conceal

all that you are
is so perfectly endowed
and to be rawly you
is your life’s greatest vow

I heard music that reminded me of us

And it made me want to run to your arms

Of course I’m not sure how long you’ll be open

But you make me want to be safe from harm.

Just be my dearest friend when daylight dies

And I promise I’ll do the same for you

When all the lights go down in the hills

By your side, I feel safe and new.

Just so you always know

I’m sorry when I’m my selfish self

All I ever have wanted

Was just to not wake up by myself.

So pingpong across the abyss with me

And quote Tolstoy as we lie side by side

Speak like Ginsberg and Rilke would

And I’m comforted that I don’t have to hide.

You stand apart as a human being

Even though you’re not sure you have a soul

But the fact that you cry at bittersweet movies

Solidifies my faith in old Hebrew scrolls.

Sometimes I’m honestly and truly afraid

That you won’t be the one for me

Because you’re the only one I want

But I know that we both long to be free.

It can feel like I’m in love with a strict machine

But the look in your eyes when you play piano

Or have just read a letter I gave to you

Assures me I’m so far from right in this matter.

The smell of you when you’re tired and warm

Or your kind face when you look my way

Scares me so because I love you so much

That it breaks my heart to think of you going away.

Your skin with it’s many scars is so rawly beautiful

I love tracing the freckles on your shoulders and back

Connecting them to the lines you yourself have drawn

Making living constellations and maps.

I hope that when I’m five hundred miles away

You’ll look straight up at Arcturus and Scorpio

Because nothing would make this sweeter

Than you knowing that I’m gazing at the heavens too.

Do you know I fall more in love each time we speak

For you’re a wonderful man with a beautiful mind

I can just hope and trust and pray

That I can be with you for a lasting time.

How rawly alive we are;
In the light of day.

"The power of freedom to overcome tyrants and terrorists"
Moral clarity accoding {cording} Natan Sharansky,
he mustabin seeking seeing through a moral window
besmerched wi'traditions
radiating

A Russian-reared Jew's perspective from Israel
In the 1990's
No integration without representation

--- wait, let the reader recall the goal - yet set not -
right, roll on
{where is this going, David Goodman Chronicles 2020}

The book of life, your role,
{when you find your name, you know}
expand into
A party for the moment, our parts played,

well, let's try {hence, a title}

----govern yer own damself

A gain, a tryal, a paying, a tension, contention,
single source contention,
pride's the culpa writ. Right.

{when you walk into a banquet, be polite,
meaning act as though you are where you know
you are welcome, ask if the empty seat is taken,
if not, you will know you are welcome,
neighbor. This is the same old way, in the future.}

Hubris gotcha down- be humble, win a crown

Shall we win freedom for those locked in fear?
A fine challenge, don't you think?
Read.
Sakarov was Sharansky's teacher, his Plato,
upon whose shoulders, strangely strong faith
finds footing,
fulcrum,
you get the ideas you claim to own, not
the ideas you thought taught
true to all who consume the canon.
Leverage.
A library gives a mind leverage,
we have AI, no lie.

An idea, an id-entity, speaking spirit
Weyekin, englished to we ye kin,
angels, beings guiding ones
who know.

Not every evil is nullified.
Be a ware, the e keeps you from being
a war, knowing your own self as warrior.
Peace makers do not keep the peace,
peace makers let it settle to stillness
waiting behind any obstacle,
waiting is suffering this to be so now, because
nothing in the energy compelling me is breaking
through
but to you, see, dear reader It may be
only I who thinks we are, you could be imaginary.

Actually.
Many useless
morals of stories remain as aphorisms
and adages and proverbial warnings to provoke.
Nietzsche numbered his, to give account
for every idle word,
links
perhaps…
Speak up, lie not against the truth, saying I know,
I know
-boundaries, of course
Freedom must be
defined.
Who knows? Tell me, oft-op apt ove'yer'head!
Y'know? Y,
Everyman does what is right in it's own eyes.
Maybe,
define everyman.
{und ganz Übermenchen}
All of us. Everyman sind all of us, in well ordered
reality,
such as our readers of reality-
between-
lines-never-drawn
in
sand. {flaunting the peace of the sabbath,
which did allow stoning, as you may recall.}

You see, we are in the same story.
There is no authority, save you pay,
free willingly, attention to tensions
seeming
to signal something
mechanical,
click,
ping, a single ATP dis compossesses.
-composed
Ride that photon.
Here we are again, speed of thought.
Think so? Real is an assumption, not an imagination.

I heard this guy say he was a son of God. Big G.
'Said he was aman with anorm al 'erose journey,
when 'tall wentahell.
Then, he believes he was reborn,
somewhat more than a mere mortal.
He claimed his forever
began when he stood up
to the knowing of good and evil, personally.
Intimately.
That seems good. Freedom is from some thing,
stricitive, right. Free from what?
Fear?
fear is one thing,
but fear has preservation purpose so,
we must be specific in which fears we bind to the NULL set.

WE are judging angels. Dare think.
You judged your own collection of inspirations,
did you not?
I prayed God, YHWH, actually, would show me
all the lies I believed,
about him and anything else. Amen, I did.
We'll make this plain, if this is your first signpost of note.

Ideas of freedom formed in the minds of slaves,
meet ideas of freedom formed in the minds of felons,
greet ideas of freedom formed in the minds of children in the desert,
bher with ideas formed in vacation bible school at hippie cults.
Suffer ideas formed in academies of technical guessing, f
er cryin' out loud.
Ideas of freedom?
Little children, keep yourselves from vain imaginations.

Freedom that cannot name Jesus YHWH is not the proof.
Truth is the proof. Truth makes free, he who seeks it,
which is not to say
he who has apprehended
the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
No, whoso ever seeks,
finds more abundance
of that which he has.
He who has nothing, finds nothing.

All candidates claiming direct linage to truth:
define freedom and be judged.

That's not fair.
Accuse, excuse us, life's not fair,

Judge yourself. "Make yer dam' bed!"
{presuming you woke t'd'yoke}
leave us form a
party to puff
up moral clarity like
leaven, till three more measures of
dust rise on the gasses we naturally

cannot see. In corpo ratus.
CLEAR!
Scientology? Coincidence, if 'tis.
Ol' magi-tech, what so
ever we agree. Same trick.
Sacro-sanctity
freedom from fear. Agree? No? Why not?

Fear of YHWH is the beginning of Wisdom.
True, but thought wrong.
Genitive fear, God's fear, is the beginning
of Wisdom, she was with him ere the
highest part of the dust of the world took form.
Fear of falling, is good -- no, it is a mistaken signal,
an imbalance, eh?
The speed of thought correction is faster than the eye
can see and warning is thought, of an unknown harm,
mistook.

Fear of believing lies, is needed, I thought, but, no,
There's no fear of believing lies,
truth be told.
"Cannot the tongue taste its words?"
"Is there any taste in the white of an egg?"
"Do you know the sweet influence of Pleiades?"

The bubble of all you know is an egg. Kinda.

-----

Self-govern, together live, birds of a feather flock together,
that idea. No slaves.

Fear society or free society, self, thyself, govern true.

That's right. "To thine own self, be true"
"believe no lie, tell no lie"
"Know thyself"
"Know thy shadow"

Today is 11-11-2021 the time here is 9:11 ante meridian,
You, as imagined, by me, alone,
are you, alone, reading, to yourself words
made from thoughts I am thinking at this pace.
Prepositioned, in your pastence.
Phrase, word, phrases, line
lines alone

lines in pairs
certain points genitivious, engender differing means
to obviously triplication of some certainties, certain
ties to old lines unraveled from a net knotted
in Ur.

We be ye kin, ken ye grock rocks rollin' on
down a course?
Of course you can, of course, the only common
course, this course of human events, common
sensed as time and space overlapping stuff.

Mater, mater, may I imagine being born, eh
oh, yes, -- movie memory -- see
right through the visible man,
a boy toy, picked by luck or the answer
to a prayer,
but I did ask for the best gift, hoping
it was money, because I was told Solomon,
was the wisest of mortals in ever, so
I was told he said, Money answereth all things.

Yeah, right. You already know, that seems so
wrong, wrong to the point, the root
of evil, barbed tail,
horns of dilemma, ah, what's a mind like mine to do?
Semantics, its all
se man tics, terms of worth, pro
forward onward efforting verbs, action words
The Infallible Book declares, Money answereth all things.

A single grain contains the whole, or some say so,
I imagine reality less restrictive in common sense
utility
use of knowns passed on as memes with reasons,
we sit to
gather memory, tell story, think song sung, sing
that song
a gain, we make the peace past understanding,
past when we were one, and we stood up
right
and ran away
remember, the heart of every story boy meets girl.

Well, this is different, scientifical. Fantastic, sure,
stable as the grammar in DNA.

Steady as the procession of the stars seen from
certain times and places, and passed through time
to any who wish to know
all the truth once held in forms told around fires
to comfort a child with a common cold,
aches and sniffles, full tummy,
milk and honey heated by stones, dropped
into a turtle shell mug my grandma gave to me

drifting into to tal, mor tal is man mortalisman more
more
more, wait. Wait.

We breathe. We listen. This is the book of life, live.

My task is breathing inlets along coastlines, where
waves of overlapping, pearling shallows round
stones as witness, stones crying out
living water has shaped me, see,

is this beauty for giving or selling. I wish I knew,
instantly,
this bit has been freely given, for the use
been made,
the formation, the inspiring aspiration to make

make up
a mind to find the answer, and find
it does appear
line upon line,
beyond the library Daniel witnessed sealed.

Money made this possible, this magic pen,
for all intents and purposes, this tech is magic.

Have you witnessed 3-D printing circa 1985?
Mac SE was cutting edge, and owning one
was status, using one was a good gig,
for an old counter of picas and points, once
the laser writer met vector formed fonts
calculated, computed with most accurate maths,
tangents and cosins and such,

the power of the press, in the hands of a pauper,
hmm, time and chance, let me warn you, this is
the untangling of the famed tangled web we weave
when first we receive the call to listen to the truth
you hear in written words arranged in patterns
adapted to the available, usable, medium.

Draw your self watching the horses painted
as the song of us is sung, a domus, we domus, us

singing together we form
awe
awfullest noise you can imagine in a secret place.

Welcome to the cavern of forgotten good ideas
and idle words mistaken as misdefined, this is that.
              
-restart
from certain places where uses are determined
by any means, good
[ye-es, the idea at the center}
pre-positioned, made fit for a king or a priest
or any humbler soul in a state of grace, id
est, best state, favored, by no power id-entity in me
conceived, but by the word of GOD, who is
good
all the time, any hungry child knows, how a child
weighs the worth of such an idea, plucked
from thin air…

Here, we be, wir sind, si, we know, go Ko!
golf-commentator whisper voice

did you come to find my voice, listen
learning is the first act that never ends,

the next word is the next thing, eventually,
events being
things, in their own right state, useful, or not.

Tantrums serve to prove the uselessness of tantrums.
Grandfather level wisdom fits moral to mean to end,
end all conjecture,
cease casting all cares to the common winds of time,
and space and sea and sky, everywhere idiocy abides
provoking one
an other, ricochet-re-re-re act re
sponse, jump, start

run, upright, spring thinking what
if
I say this is the goal, get to the bottom, fundus
professionally guided by I mind I myself, made up
mind
including you, the acting dear reader.
Saving myself for a publisher, copy right ritual
of code devisors, to increase interest,
gouge-deeper gullies to wash away desires
inspired by alluring vertisements intended
to loosen your grip
on sati. Satisfy my yearning soul-blues, bha-bha
boom
woncha sing witme seem what we seem to be
haps in a time per haps
may happen at will in a mind on a binge to end
all binges, writing like a joy-daemon viral
ex-plainer, needling *****, look

this way, see

ear? Practice makes perfect opportunity next

use of truth to tell a lie from a joke, perhaps
that is the trick,
who told the tale before you heard it was your
intellectual heritage,

your link to who and what you are, through song
and saga and right stepped beeing dancing thisaway
thataway sing asongofus a we a we a we away

what were we thinking, then
Lion King reminds us, being or not, what do we got
to do to attain

Acunamatattal rattle shake shake shake
shake your spoils from the war,
were you unaware, shaking ***** measures worth?

Stealing attention from the stars, eh,
lying demon, here, here be heretic tic, instant
hell
a poppin all around, as we recall some mirror neurons
to signal gut response
text wise
is this happening? Did the dam break, or the branch

is this a bough breaking affirmation broken from
the tree of life entangling the tree of knowing increase
vow to know
more, was the chant for warned be, war chants and we
chants are mortally indiscernible but

we die to learn the difference, you must be born again,
I can not call that a lie. Nor can you and prove me wrong.

Was that a the reason for war all along, selected
bits of the last old wives tales, the barren ones,

old wives, who watched no child, ever form, from
one generation, after another, to no eggs
ever forming vessels for the spirit of life knowing knowing
things, we agree on
things, we agree on things we make up and lie to others

to scare them, put fear in their hearts, fear of death,
real, on the edge, fear, we make up,
we pretend, we play, who am I to be, when I grow up?
- practice perfect sati, old wives say we agree, go.
polisemy spawn bloom Thuc's lic be witcha

If it was a common question, why was it no answer
is readily available…

avail, second instance, in this stream, how extra
ordinareally organzed are these eddies in the depths,
silken threads, silver in golden needles, apples
of gold, in pitchers of silver, still life, made
in vocative voice we sought, peace
in a picture
formed from words drawn in letting symbols setting
free
chthonic thoughts some time now,
where we go or how is immaterial now, here
is where all the power to be us - is, right now.

I'm loving the concept, except one knows,
one knows not,

could be a numbered aphorism in thoth lost long ago.

Freedom from pain? When? When the pain ends.

I have watched Thuc burn, many flashes
as to why
so, I surmise, no promise I am right then, but now
I am right, as a twist top.

As in,
do it right or break the true purpose of rightness,
lefty loosy, listen
righty tighty, mechanical children know that by five.

So in saying we ***** with minds we mean we re
thread the spiral needed to hold order to the curve
we use to move from mind to mind
by simple subtility common to reading minds, let
loose from codes of obscurity and silence,

priesthood of the programmers, defiled
by HyperCard…

hit it, 1985, we role the hero in the tail, the new man
stranger in his own home town, trope, f'shore

distant Homer's combed the beaches, sifting shipwrecks

finding, from time to time, these jars of old stories
written in magical ways, saying unspeakable things.

A dawning in the mind of all the kin, weyekin, listen
we say say the story so
somebody
listens, thinks, listens thinks, I thought that,
and laughs,

that feels good, silent smile, quiet grin, nobody sees,
but me, we ai n't e-whistlin', Dixie,

did the singer make a we of us, or did you watch
the TV show,
so you know? Did we meet and leave impressions,
or did you think I reminded you of a character
Bill Murray could play well?

What the hell? Imagine that, being another body,
after being this, be gone.
Sa sa sati. Is fine, as an idea, an id-entity in common state
free satisfaction for any dis-
satisfied mind, but
be aware, breathing is involved, for a lifetime, of days
and seasons, one after the other, constantly
feeling the draw
of empty from full, as we all sang, let the healing waters
flow,
and the joys, celestial
glow… go go go make up a Mormon link and think we

lied about many things, we need not lie about knowing.

Now, no lie lives in sacred temples misappropriated
by a tyranny over the mind of man,
to which we Jeffs and Jinn agree, an end is deservant

of your attention to the actual forces involved in details,
such as you reading this line after all the lines you read
before
now… when your clock is pacing, time's worth one way
or wait,
a guide, some intuitive icon may make sense suddenly
256 shades of grey, undefiled by the muse that planted
the shame associated with putting on that mind,
being in the head of a dramatic iteration of broken

sense of being holy, historical fashion statements
straight from full victorian victim global angst,

interesting times, said the chinaman to the BIC guy,

click, British East India, and the ***** war and
the tea cartel.

Grey Pompon, cheer rah rah rich man, now I can
eat your mustard,
rawly.

Euphony, is good euglobonics, euro-trash
white and all its malonat- ive {melatonin-iment}
serrendipt natural to the medium
hyper-text in metaspace, true to the thought
at
the bottom, pro fundus
ment-al-ity ifs
itself
into this actual state, where
when I write you read, and
this is connected to a very complex
tangled web of reasonings for acting
as if we know
this is that right thing you do, we do think
the thoughts in words we let mean true
things, in bundles.

Sub routines, we may choose
to understand, reasons for simple when
sublime takes a life time.

Faster fasting, we did, my we did speed,
even if it was only a game,
we generated the oomph that once made
war
bore boys and girls who saw the science
consciously, thinking
I was made for this, this time, these rules,
this tech
this magic, this history, this lexicon

this underneathness, chthonic thought
Lex Fridman, coincidental influencer
Joe Rogan happened,
to survive, or
did he, is he really Joe Rogan, on Spotify
or did he leave his sould self on YouTube
bait,
come pay me attention I may sell and
make you laugh and feel good
doing it, laughing
inside.

I just recall this guy I know, who has
grown anonymously old, mellowed
with char and aged to perfection
on the adapted tongue,
it is a cultural test, can you swallow
the real
hard stuff boy?

You want a taste of your own medicine,
- twined voices old and gravelly craw
- high and whiny boy

The story takes a turn, same script,
life is poetic, or is that the other way round,

who cares

Malonate
The malonate or propanedioate ion is CH₂2−.
Malonate compounds include salts and esters
of malonic acid,
such as diethyl malonate,₂,
dimethyl malonate,₂,
disodium malonate,
Na₂.
Malonate is a competitive inhibitor
of the enzyme succinate dehydrogenase:
malonate binds
to the active site
of the enzyme
without reacting, and so competes
with succinate,
the usual substrate
of the enzyme.
The observation that malonate is
a competitive inhibitor
of succinate dehydrogenase was used
to deduce the structure
of the active site
in that enzyme.

From <https://uci.officeapps.live.com/OfficeInsights/web/views/insights.immersive.html>

MMM, I get by…

As I lay open, wanting and flushed
my skin crawls with hot heavy feelings
I am open and wet and ready
   My mind is open and imaginative
I am wanting to fulfill this drive inside
  My body curling at every wanted touch
I am flushed writing rawly
My body and cheeks flush at deep thoughts
Feeling this way feels good
and I know it can feel better...
but I decide to leave that life long ago
Every now and again though, it calls me
and I fall to my own deep dark desires.
Wet and sensitive I feel the known path through the dark.

2/28/2015

There is a sweetly tinged contrast between
the yellow of a primaverial agrimonia and a dead winter bramble,
the tingle of cola the burn of coffee
wild wide scope of memory, waiting
A wholesome night... For once!
Entirely sweet and just
the juxtapositions seem to interlock at the parts of the line; this line:
"I don't want to go," rawly stated in
a vulnerable trap, always with the sweet sun of confrontation
scheming through the panes.
So perfectly set: like an animal caught in a groundhog  cage
"I don't want to go to school" and
"I don't want to go to the marines,"
sweetly tinged contrast of  ingrate talk with hopeful interlocking at this:
Both said with an exasperated acrid breath that makes me think of the mirror stare phenomenon.

because love is the summer
and its haze is the invitation
to winter

because it is what our inner sense
refutes and strips us of
our meaningless rationales

because it is what necessitates
our blurred selves to come
into a halcyon of so many laughters
weaving only what tears could
never provide - a diadem of light

because love is a string of birds
that continually searches for
a thick green home and atop
is where it perches proudly
looking down on new moon
and old stars,

because love is the pour of
something as luminous, crystalline
as a faint spark of frankness,
and that we, in believing this,
must have forgotten what it meant
to be obsequiously wounded closer
to the hortatory of roses and their
prickly salutations

and because love is the tongue
surrounded by the many words
of pain, and that it is its
refusal to wake in the day
of a language without a word
for winter and infinitude

because love is the chaos of
sound that it hears only alone -
unless unmindfully, rawly, we
hold it close to our chests
as it moves with its fledgling beat, ready to touch.

I knew from that first glance,
That you would mean something to me.

I didn’t know,
Much less expect,
To love deeply and rawly as I do,
But you always surprise me.

I surprise myself as well,
In the patience I have with you,
In the way that I am capable of this,
In how I could treasure something,
That without I would have no meaning.

You are everything to me.
Everything I want,
But so much more I never knew I needed.

I still don’t fully comprehend,
How one person could develop such intense emotion for another being,
How everything around you shifts,
But in the way like puzzle pieces,
Situating itself perfectly in place.

You manage to deal with me,
But wonder my calm demeanor towards you.
You are my tranquility,
Around you my anger, frustration, pain, and loathing,
Just pours out of my being,
Spilling what I could once never release.

You are the embodiment of perfection,
The model of magnificence
The sample of allure,
Yet you deny your paragon.

Above everything else,
The one I am the utmost grateful for,
You are mine.

The difference WAS I knew all your bad
The difference WAS I told you everything. You KNEW more about me than anyone else ever.
The difference WAS I WAS there to hold you when you WERE down. I WAS there to raise you up when you WERE on the ground
The difference WAS I cried with you
The difference WAS you WERE the first person I talked about our future with
The difference WAS I knew you WERE having trouble and weren’t in a good place and loveD (?) you anyways
The difference WAS we WERE going to brush and straighten your hair
The difference WAS we WERE going to go hot tubbing The difference WAS a fault in our stars
The difference WAS the best book ever
The difference WAS I could die laughing at my jokes and you wouldn’t think badly of me
The difference WAS you WERE going to be the first person I loveD and the first person I COULD have told that to
The difference WAS I WOULD have been there at three in the morning if you needED me
The difference WAS Pride and Prejudice
The difference WAS stegosaurus hair
The difference WAS music
The difference WAS Ted Talks
The difference WAS John Vervake
The difference WAS spur of the moment star gazing
The difference WAS spiders in your hair
The difference WAS you WERE my hand coolers and I WAS your hand warmers
The difference WAS black licorice
The difference WAS I WAS there when you relapsed The difference WAS you hated dance monkey
The difference WAS give me and _ give me a _ give me a _ give me a _ go _!
The difference WAS I wrote four songs and five poems for you in a month because I thought you careD and I DIDN’T care about you not being in a good place. We WOULD have gotten through it together
The difference WAS you said you WERE scared to lose me
The difference WAS I fell asleep with you every night
The difference WAS Guichi spelled g-u-I-c-h-I
The difference WAS Trashcanpaul
The difference WAS your terrible mic voice
The difference WAS dum dum dum diabetes
The difference WAS you showed me your favorite booth at acoustic
The difference WAS I said that I COULD love you and you said you COULD love me too
The difference WAS moth memes
The difference WAS street lamps
The difference WAS bless me
The difference WAS scrunching
The difference WAS you asked me to be there and I said yes and you said no
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch Mamma Mia The difference WAS laughing at the stupid things
The difference WAS you were going to be my date to the FLC dance if you said yes
The difference WAS that you thought
The difference WAS you thought and shared rawly
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch Nacho Libre
The difference WAS you WERE the first person I stayed up to six am for
The difference WAS we read together
The difference WAS we WERE going to write a chipotle and The Best Book Ever song together
The difference WAS Tacos by Tyler
The difference WAS Lemons at three
The difference WAS Elsa Roonie Fiona
The difference WAS stars on an empty night
The difference WAS dad jokes
The difference WAS Jeremy the book
The difference WAS you WERE my first real kiss
The difference WAS I WOULD have been there through the thick and thin
The difference WAS, WAS that a thinking sigh?
The difference WAS I reached out to Lillianna to email you
The difference WAS you shared your music with me
The difference WAS Holding on to you
The difference WAS our handshake
The difference WAS that hug after acoustic that Saturday night
The difference WAS your eyes moved too fast
The difference WAS Ninja The difference WAS “how lucky am?”
The difference WAS _ silence
The difference WAS I only got to say goodnight to you twice... and never again
The difference WAS you WOULD smile and bite your tongue
The difference WAS what are you thinking
The difference WAS what are you feeling
The difference WAS running
The difference WAS I WAS going to bring you to YOU
The difference WAS we WERE going to go stand up paddleboarding on cedar lake
The difference WAS we WERE going to canoe into the sunrise
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch the sunrise and the sunset on the same day
The difference WAS we WERE going to layout on your lawn and watch the stars
The difference WAS I WAS going to look at your patio NEXT time I came over 
The difference WAS I trustED you. TrustED you enough to not leave. You WERE always the one with the fear of me leaving you. I wonder if you ever knew it was you, not me, saying goodbye (correction: leaving. No one ever says goodbye to someone they want to see again)
The difference WAS you said you didn’t want to get into anything that wouldn’t last... and yet... you are the one ending...
The difference WAS you smelled amazing
The difference WAS you HAD my sweatshirt
The difference WAS you never watched movies
The difference WAS you told me even though you WERE scared to
The difference WAS I filled a toilet full of tissues writing this because I couldn’t stop crying
The difference WAS I made you a bracelet
The difference WAS you WERE the only person that I actually talked to anymore
The difference WAS I made short cuts for emojis in my phone... for you
The difference WAS watching The Office clips
The difference WAS you read all my bad writing
The difference WAS I drove 30 minutes... to kiss you
The difference WAS hello... _
The difference WAS you’re weird aha
The difference WAS I showed you my journal
The difference WAS I WAS there when you called me crying
The difference WAS talking about religion
The difference WAS talking deeply
The difference WAS you WERE the first person that I was truly scared for
The difference WAS the plans we made
The difference WAS you grabED my phone off the techno table
The difference WAS we WERE going to get Ethiopian food
The difference WAS dying of laughter because of Ron Swanson
The difference WAS I USED to be able to be anyone I wantED around you
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch Les Mis in three minutes
The difference WAS that photoshoot
The difference WAS you WERE my first milkshake
The difference WAS I KNEW you weren’t all right, but I was alright with that.. with you
The difference WAS you WERE the first person I cried with and not for, but I HAD you then... NOW YOU ARE JUST ANOTHER PERSON WHO BROKE MY HEART. YOU, THE UNIQUE ONE, BROKE MY HEART WITH THE SAME BULLSHIRT (you won’t get that because you haven’t seen The Good Place) THAT EVERY OTHER PERSON HAS GIVEN ME... that every... other... person has said...

The difference WAS you WERE you

I’m sorry that was me being irrationally angry Goodbye... and thanks for all the fish (you won’t get that either because you haven’t read hitchhikers guide to the galaxy). You were my Hazel Grace. Until now I would never have made that comparison, but now it seems aptly fitting. Yuppers... goodbye

she spirals out of control, like a blown away dandelion. broken by society flinging her rawly into the world of plastic flowers. she lands when the wind can't break her fall, smashing her dreams into concrete. her little seeds of happiness trodden on and lost is all she has left of her once beautiful self
-moyees

I want to live
In the moment
With one hundred percent
Of my attention
Being fixated on whatever is before me
Not what's on my phone
Or lingering in the back of my mind
I want to live
Rawly
In the moment
I want to be carried away
With all of the emotions
Formed from that specific moment
To be remembered in my head
Not in the form of a picture in a gallery
Or in a phone
I want to genuinely live
In the moment
In a way
That I can't even begin to put into words
Because I cannot express
How I want to feel
Into words