Sapiosexuals^

she quoted Shakespeare most appropriately when needed,
her fevered fervor scientific was the non-fossil fueled engine that STEMed her quantum analytics of NFL football,
as an intellectual amuse bouche, that was uncannily correct,
on FIFa she passed it was just too corrupt, but Wimbledon was”fun”

we all bet her predictions for her error rate was insignificant

she claimed her knowledge of a cure for Alzheimer’s was done,
but bio-pharma suppressed, and a single pill existed taken once, could cease and desist the brain for craving *******, but the politics were too complicated and really boring to explain

instead she preferred to wile the hours hanging with
lesser poets, to see if taking them at their word
was an accurate indicative of their professed prowess in bed

but when she sampled my wares regularly,
I called her study statistically biased,
to which she replied,

“ain’t you the lucky one,
that my standards are lowly rigorous,
and you possess a mighty cute bi-assymetry“
in Croatian or Mandarin (unsure)

smart lassie indeed

I was flowing through the light.
The Celestial Star Owls followed along.
I flow backward in time.
I access a memory and view a beautiful moment.
It was the day he fell in love.
But this memory was stemed to another.
It was the day he lost her.
This is where our universe begins to die.
He looks to drugs to numb away the pain.
There is nothing here that I can use to help us.
This memory is on a cycle that will never end in happiness.
I travel further back and cannot seem to access any new memories.
They are like clouded stars.
Beings made of shadow and black smoke are trying to consume the memories.
They scream at my approach.
The Celestial Star Owls begin to attack them.
This race of evil shadow black smoked beings are call "The addiction."

It came gushing out of you
in the middle of the night
or in day light, time doesn't
matter to it.
It kept you up for most of it
awake, aloof and attentive
to your surroundings.
It dribbled out of your body
stemed from your soul, with
no warning, just as the winds do
just as the fires
eat the forests.
When you sat at your bed
listening to the summer crickets
and people laughing about
lazy topics such as the weather
or the women or the football
score, it was there, you just
don't notice.
It felt as it should, with no
explanation nor a regard for
what you, he or she thought.
It had its own rhythm and rhyme.
When it was at its best, it made
you happy, and the opposite
applies.
It stained your canvas and
littered your bedsheets.
One would argue that the cigarettes
were meant to keep one out of it.
I may have been talking
about Love, Writing or ***.
Whichever came close to your mind,
consider it the topic.