I L U like my dirty clothes
Love being forgotten
On my bedroom floor

I L U like chores love the
music that helps them
forget they're chores

I L U like dirty dishes
Love hot showers and
the other side of the sink

I L U like I love spilling
Salt, and warding off the evil
By tossing over my shoulder

I L U like I love
Breaking rules about
my own Superstition

I L U like black cats love
Bad luck, cause to them,
It's just Friday

I L U like the hot dog bun
Loves staring at the beef patty,
Wishing "if only, if only"

I L U like bread loves
Being forgotten till we're really hungry
And then we're all ungrateful, like
"Hey bread, you remember us?"
And bread is high above us, like
Not even a hint of scorn

I L U like the first time I saw
Jurassic Park, The dinosaurs
Were real enough for me,
Even sans chicken feathers

I L U like the weather loves
Surprise parties.
I L U like painful
surprise party memories love
being forgotten on my bedroom floor

I love you like Mayflies love living,
oh so briefly, once a day, every single day,
Chapter one to chapter none

I love you like mayflies love themselves,
brevity and all, stirred by nothing but
the glow of Dawn's light,
Dead by dusk, the Mayfly never fully
completes metamorphosis, so it dies
in complete incompletion,
but that's okay.

It drank the salt ocean,
it breathed the living air,
And that's how I want to L U
Mayflies are cool little buggers.
Onoma Jun 17
city heat in hard

black attire, superconductive

glow of a serpent chasing

its tail.

asphalted lay of holy land--

whose bedraggled pulse snorts

in bloody laughter.

roadside augurs fester while

tying the laces of traffic, through

passed out archways.

bird's beaks are broken open,

in mad waterless monologues.

as the nucleus of this wizened apple,

casts oblique shadows... for curly cue-ing worms

flirtatious doom.

sped billboards imminently flattening the world,

under a Columbus-blue sky.

going, going...gone!

ice cream trucks mangle dueling theme

songs, sloughed off by sensational tides of kids.

distraction's lustful lick, an informationless

tombstone busy with curves.

here, whole-body shaves of renouncement...

and steady showers of salt, will make

worthy the truest Himalayan meditation.
No matter how many showers
I take in the evenings
or in the afternoons,
I can't seem to wash away
that musky scent
from my thighs and fingers.
It's not always possible
to know how long the smell
of deception will linger.
Thoughts we all have at one time or another. Now, please care enough to get my premium work: Patreon.com/rongavalik
Dressed in quarterly different attires,
The earth revolves,
Tilts on its axis,
Heralding beautifil seasons,
With weather phenomena.
Here comes spring,
Showers of rain,
Wet with umbrellas up,
Flowers begin to bloom,
Bees and butterflies pollinate,
Goodbye chilly days,
New life, rebirth,
Birds return,
New songs in the air.
Summer is a canvas of blue skies,
Nature adorned  with emerald foliages,
Ablaze with sunshine,full of fun,
Carefree days, swimming,picnics in the parks,
Icy,cool juices, lollies and ice creams,
Hours spent fishing.
Autumn walks slowly by,
Leaves begin to fall,
Orange, red and yellow,
Season of harvesting,
The final scene,
Winter is white and aged
Naked trees draped in snowflakes,
Ice and snow brings magic,
Quiet time to contemplate,
When nature is in slumber.

— The End —