"touchy" poems
Dipped in milk
Or eaten plain
Chocolate like silk
Cookies&Cream;
Peanut butter
****** Butter
Oreo's
Who to blame
Sneaking in the night
Only for a bite
Sweet and touchy
Creamy and crunchy
Let the sugar rush come
Oh, now hand me a tum
Upset tummy
My nose is runny
What's this i hear?
I can't take sweets as I please?
Oh, come on...
You can't blame the cookies!
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
*
*hold me not
touch me not
maybe I'm clumsy-clumsy-clumsy!
have headache
want chocolate shake
maybe I'm lazy-lazy-lazy!
feel me not
mind me not
I'm cranky-cranky-cranky!
the mood is swinging
find me clinging
I'm touchy-touchy-touchy!
may be crazy
sometimes hazy
I'm moody-moody-moody!
stay away
go your way
I'm feelo-feelo-feelo!
just be there
patient listener
I'm despo-despo-despo!
here i contradict
have conflict
I'm psycho-psycho-psycho!
changing hormones
troubling estrogens
tell me not a fatso-fatso-fatso!
maybe I'll be ok again!
maybe you'll love me then!*
*
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
I take my imaginary pen
I write down my anger
I close my eyes and count to ten
just to breathe a little longer
It's laughable really
when I see you justifying
Sure, you're all touchy-feely
only goodwill, so hard-trying
When you said that to me
where was your heart at?
Why calling me your better-half-to-be
when all you wanted was a shoulder pat?
Oh you, with your wonderful poetry,
oh, lies so beautifully written down
please just stop, you don't know no poverty
in your emerald sea everything you wanted me to believe is to drown
I never thought you would make me think
the worst of you instead
And I swear I could only stand and stare and shrink
when you didn't care to lose your head
Now you haunt me like the headless horseman
and you will forever
but I do not worry for my sanity, oh boy of thoughts turned cyan
I walked with ghosts before and a headless one is so less clever
And if you ever come back looking for this head of yours
Think twice, try a little bit harder wannabe
It might stick out of the sand at your emerald sea shores
Your love for me was never poetry
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
Her body looks touchy in the light,
I urge to play with her all night.
Yes, she says and I hold her softly’
I take a deep breathe, to confirm if she’s ready.
She didn’t mind, and i proposed for a birthday gift, she can’t say yet.
I run one hand up her neck
touching her makes me wanna peck
For I love kissing.
Across her body, my right hand goes,
I have been practicing, believe me, it shows.
Another deep breath, the tension reduce
staying focus, every moment dues
Boldly toast her to the room'
She gently stand up, no offends and we move.
Getting to the room
I gently push her to the wall
I make her feel the groove
My vibes and my moves
Triggers her to do
With my two hands,
I grab her head while kissing her
She close her eyes and
French we go.
So deep and no, i need to go’
she pull me back.
The sounds and feelings grow more immense
The movements, become more intense
My heart stops as I see the door open
Her mom walks in and says;
Your guitar is too loud,
please turn it down.
And she reply’ ok mom.
Well, I’m a bad boy trying to be relevant.
She forwardly push me to the bed
Stylishly she unzip my jean and holds my ****
While she **** the head
She fingers herself and makes me lick.
At the long run, I inserted my sim.
She took her face off as she feels the hit
She screams and still pulling me in,
While I diligently *** her with styles
She wonder, who am I
Four rounds we go
Hard and slow
She feels light and dope
She’s smiles and says that’s your birthday *** BOB
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 11:12 AM UTC
i peeked into your secret
i unbottuned your sensitivity
with your own sarcasm
you blew my vietnam
my heart is a touchy speaker cable
and you sparked me up
now
i am empty beer bottles
oscillating in your hand
and then you set me down
i am your nostalgia and
you can only think of bad things
like bruised knees and gout
and that summer you
had walking pneumonia and syphilis
and you cried every night
into your mother's arms
i am the cancer you faked
in order to gain attention
i am that boy that fell for it
and gave you syphilis
i am your shaved head
on picture day in the 9th grade
i am your solitude
i am your noise
i am your virginity
being taken in the backseat of your
brother's best friend's parent's
camaro when you were 15
and more than willing
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 7:26 PM UTC
Taking off something from my hair
Feeling the fabric of my skirt
Wearing my eyeglasses
Touching my arm and
looking for that
invisible
tumor
His own fabric
against my knees
My heart on my eyes
inside my open palms
The marks of his fingers
stay
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
I hate my personality.
I don't have a personality
That cultivates relationships.
No,
My personality leads to anguish -
Insecurity.
If I could,
For once,
Harvest a bit of
Silence in my brain -
I'd love that.
I hate to feel anxiety;
Fear of abandonment;
Insecurity;
Obscurity;
I hate to feel what I feel.
What's worse,
I can't find elegant words
To describe it.
Leaving me mute,
People assume things about me,
Making my efforts moot.
Friends think I'm overbearing;
Demanding.
Romances think I don't trust them;
That I'm too controlling,
Insecure;
Dependent;
Too moody;
Too possessive.
My personality makes people leave me.
I'm too touchy -
Too hard to love or understand.
People see me,
And expect me to freak out,
Or to demand attention.
Well this is my account -
Because when you are on
The borderline,
It's easy to see
That the grass is greener
On either side -
But for others,
You seem polarized.
I'm not happy with how my brain works.
I don't want to be the way I am.
I don't want to make sure people are
Thinking about me...
And then feel guilty or angry when they don't,
Or can't.
I hate my personality.
I hate who I am.
It causes me to never feel comfort,
And my unrest has left me
An insomniac for too long.
Now,
I just want to rest.
But,
It's hard to sleep when you're alone
And afraid of the dark.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Current mood: frustrated
Anthony got a firetruck Lego set. The packaging says "ages 5-12". It also makes the claim "designed for easy building and instant play." Now I know he's only 4 but he's smart and not that far from 5 comparatively. I on the other hand am 28. Well outside the parameters age wise. Yet, this smallish box of tiny toys baffled me for over an hour. I have the directions, I've dug through the pieces, and am still mystified on occasion. As I'm searching for yet another microscopic piece of siren or whatever it was, I'm thinking..."5 years! I can't see any 5 yr-old sticking with this for this long without losing his mind. Then Mom would take it away because of the temper tantrum and never gets built. This is stupid! Where did that tiny loopy thing go?...etc" What part of an hour is "instant play" do they not own a dictionary? I could tell them.
Then once it's together, somehow Anthony keeps taking the windshield off. He's not actively disassemble it. He's just rolling back and forth on the floor going "whoo-whoo!" Lego's the most touchy toy on the planet. Maybe he'll get some more when he's 15.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 7:52 AM UTC
Every year it was brought down from the garage rafters. Green metal frame and
springs, green canvas with white fringe and a little green pillow. It was laid out, hosed
off and erected. Grandpa couldn't have done it without us grand kids. He said so. It
was placed in a spot of honor. Just a couple of feet from the picnic table and in a spot
that was always in the afternoon shade. A folding T.V. tray was placed next to it to
hold cold drinks and snacks. Within a few days, the grass under the frame would be
brown and dead. The grass at the sides of the hammock would just be plain gone.
Scuffed away by feet, as we kids sat on the edge and swayed side to side.
After mowing the lawn, washing the car, or doing any other chores needed, Grandpa
would go inside and put on his "Hammock clothes". This consisted of a pair of Bermuda
shorts and a ribbed tank style Tee. White socks and brown sandals completed the
outfit. Once dressed appropriately, he would head for the hammock. The first "sit" of
the summer season was always a bit touchy. One had to get use to the hang of it.
There he would stand, next to the hammock. Cold drink in his one hand, the T.V. tray
forgotten. His slightly bald head and stick thin legs already slightly sun burned. Slowly,
he would start to lower himself. Reaching back with his free hand to grab the edge of
the hammock.
Note** of course us kids, grandma and mom would all be spying out of the corner of
our eyes to watch this ritual.
Then came the "Grandpa Sit". Grandpa would rock slightly forward and back on his
feet. 1-2-3 and ....SIT! A few wobbles. A couple sloshes of his lemonade. All of us
yelling "Whooooaaaaaa". He would sit there on the edge of the hammock, holding
himself steady with one hand on the edge. His feet firmly planted on the grass and his
other hand holding his cold drink high aloft.
Now, the sandals needed to be taken off. One of us grand kids would run over and
help take them off. Tickling his feet as we did so.
So far, no damage to life or limb.
Ah, but he was not yet fully on the hammock yet.
Now came the "Swing and lie down" move.
Slowly, grandpa would reach behind himself and grasp the far edge of the canvas.
drink in his other hand still held aloft. O.K.....1-2-3...SWING the legs up and quickly lie
back. Let the hammock come to a stop.
Where's Grandpa?
On the ground on the other side of the hammock soaked in lemonade.
Summer was officially started!
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 11:02 AM UTC
He had a habit of forgetting
That the knife should be
At his left,
Unlike others.
Every morning, she would
mechanically
switch the fork with the knife.
When they finished lunch
she started clearing up
and noticed the knife to his right
again.
That night,
after their routine drew to a close,
They talked.
Slowly, at first.
A touchy subject walks in.
It's time.
Even as the air is knocked from her lungs,
She gets up and scrabbles on the floor.
Nails scratching the carpet.
Eyes scanning the horizon, now black.
Her brain decides to get up,
Her body disobeys.
Her body disobeys.
Isn't that what put her here in the first place?
So what if she is pretty?
So what if her eyes are sparkling emeralds?
Her belly renders her defenceless
from his onslaught.
Isn't it her fault
that it is empty?
Isn't she wrong to want
independence from him?
Mentally, physically, emotionally?
He owned her, didn't he?
He owned her, didn't he.
He explained to her the benefits
of obeying.
Her pretty face wouldn't have been
all those ungainly shades of black.
Her eyes wouldn't have been encircled by blue.
All she had to do was obey
and not tell anyone
but obey.
Her brain rebelled.
Her brain rebelled.
Her body, for once, obeyed.
She stumbled through the hallway
She knocked down her favourite frame-
Their daughter on a pony.
Kitchen, her sanctuary.
She broke her favourite China.
Hurled her utensils.
"I arranged them last week, you *****
And then she saw them.
The knives.
The knives.
They were inviting
Her hands were pale, waiting.
His heart corrupt, hating.
"Knives to your left, darling."
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB
today bob delahunty visits 3 ladies who preaches god to stop their sons from drinking
the first lady, really gets offended if her son turns off god, mind you, she lets him have
his own beliefs, but in saying that, when he makes jokes about religion, she gets really offended
and says, you should believe in god, god is the powerful being, god is the almighty saviour and
god will be there for you at every turn, and bob came in, and told this lady, that there are
possibilities that god is a myth, and you need your son to have his own beliefs and the lady
got offended for what bob said, and told bob, that god is up there looking over each of us
and i am trying to show my son, that god isn’t powerful, as such, but is a blessing to have
him watch over us, and bob said, you need to understand, religion is a touchy subject ya see
and the lady said your the devil, and she went away singing
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB
the second lady keeps her 15 year old daughter locked up in the basement because she didn’t trust
the evil spirits around her, you see she hung around these two prostitutes, because they are terribly
nice to her, and her mother didn’t like what she is doing, so she bought these iron chains, to tie the devil
right out of her, and bob said, this is wrong, we must explain to this lady, that god will not condone this
and the lady said in her defines, my daughter hangs with devil people, and bob said, no, you are the devil
i am not saying what she is doing is rightt, but you make them sound good, and chaining your daughter
in your basement is definatlely the wrong solution for you to do, and the lady said to bob, i want my daughter
to understand what she is doing is wrong, she is disobeying gods commands, and until she understands
i have no excuse but to keep her chained in my basement, and bob hit her with a wooden spoon, not enough
to **** just enough to rescue her daughter from her clutches, and after 2 hours, she got to her feet and said
where is my daughter, and bob said, i rescued her from you, and you need to understand that this was wrong
and the lady mumbled to herself saying
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB
The third lady was a little old lady who loves knitting, but she has really bogus beliefs, you see to her anyone
who drinks, was the devil, and if her son went out drinking, she would get cranky with him, no matter what
age he was, you see she claims the devil was giving her the impression that her son is committing crimes
and behaving like a hooligan, and when her son, tries to speak up for himself, she goes QUIET, we need
our almighty GOD, to save you from the devil’s clutches and her son called bob in, because they can’t keep
going on like this, and bob came in to talk to the old lady, asking her, what makes you think that he is worshipping
the devil, you see it’s possible that he is out having a good time at the club drinking with mates, and the lady said
i was raised to think drinking was the work of the devil and when i think of what young people get up to now, no
i am doing the right thing, protecting my son from the evil drunks, no son of mine is parading around on the streets
like a hooligan and bob said, yeah but, i think he is being a man, to enjoy a few beers with family and the lady said
i don’t care, drinking is the work of the devil, and there is no doubt about it, and bob told her, you must understand
your son, and she said i don’t need to understand him, as she walked away singing
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
your the devil, bob, don’t deny it, buddy
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND THE ALMIGHTY BOB, to save everyone from delusions forever
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
By seeing this Show of Nature's Great Players
You muse at their Songs and lay your Best Arm
First around her Neck, then towards the Breakers
Praising her Legs for your own Private Art
Best indeed, was your Snickering Advance,
Thinking such Act would be overlooked in-Call
One Classic Method, Man! This Begging Romance
Elders as such know when your Heart takes the Fall
Goodness, Lover-Boy! Wrap those Curtains around
If you both need to perform your own Script
Some of us are Touchy when hearing those Sounds
Of Slips and Slurps which pump your Nerves one Bit.
Check your Programme. There is Something you missed
Those Thespians above also deserve a Kiss.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
a writer gets their inspiration from anywhere,
a writer can have details written with flare.
a writer can see every little thing and detail,
a writer can unleash mystery like a veil.
a writer can hear these words and their thoughts and taste,
a writer sometimes have to write with much haste.
a writer can lose that inspiration with a blink of a eye,
a writer knows that some things take time.
a writer can discard these senses and focus on what they feel,
a writer can make a persons mind reel.
a writer is like an artist,
a writer can produce a picture with such a twist.
a writer can lose themselves so easily,
a writer can become touchy feely.
a writer must go through an inevitable block,
a writer shouldn't be made fun of or mocked.
a writer uses a block to experience and try new things,
a writer can get new inspiration as fast as a ring.
a writer is different, they can see things different than any of their fellow man,
but a writer is most definitely a human.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
Let me be,
As God intended me to be:
Neither a wicked elf,
Nor a fairy godmother,
Never a demon,
Nor an angel,
But a true woman,
Oh! No, not the ‘Phenomenal Woman’
Of Maya Angelou,
Drawing a hive of honey bees round
‘With the span of my hips
Or the stride of my steps’
But,
One with a loving heart,
Calm and caring
Though at times touchy and itchy
A gracious host and a helpful neighbor
Able to stand in my own light
And lessen the darkness of the night
An abiding spouse
In whom my man can see
An ocean of love in my dewy eyes
And feel the steady warmth of my grip
When the seas of life grow stormy,
For my children, an adorable mother
In whom they can confide,
Their doubt, despair or delight
A counselor, a friend and guide
With the balm to heal their wounds
Touch and move their spirits
And show them the miracle of love
Piecing together these different roles
Let me, into a close knit texture weave
The fabric of my life!
Like the interlacing threads
Of a great tapestry!
In a way, is not living the art of quilting
Bringing out unique patterns
Of exquisite beauty and delight
From the scraps thrown in our way!
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
pollen rots,
faintly wafts increasing death
in an otherwise vacant Spring breeze.
the memories of bees buzz.
melodramatically,
i add a spoon of honey to my coffee.
it isn't fair trade.
neither is the milk..fair trade milk?
40 multicultural minds
hexagonal attuned:
the IPI begins to gather
in consilience
some further future data,
worked together for a whole new picture-
target for debunkers touting
benefits of pesticides,
ultra-gene manipulation patenting,
cross-pollinating property.
i am a bland dismissal too,
not just touchy-feely rage at rampant death
upon death, on death, death after death..
for 'death has always been common' right...
as i sit here, sipping sweet and sour coffee
not quite awake
.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
loud
so genuine it seems fake
temper
cries easily
animal lover
talkative
passionate
overly sweet
accidentally inconsiderate
cant whisper to save my life
non confrontational until angered
giving
creative
hard working
obnoxiously loud and annoying
liberal
avoids messy situations until i HAVE to face them
flamboyantish
scared
loves being feared / having power
hates directly hurting people
anxious
too freaked to apologize
very touchy
hyper
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 2:39 AM UTC
Proud to be celibate and writing "not" from a place called "be ashamed".
Touchy subject and taboo to most, this discussion of abstinence.
For me it's about keeping most intimate physical part of my being,
untouched by man until heart joins in marriage to the one I love.
Not judging lifestyle choices or anyone who makes personal decisions
based upon their own beliefs and what they feel is right for them.
Times I've been in love? Proud to say, I can count on only "one" hand.
My body "is" my temple and all parts to be shared only with my true love.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 8:18 PM UTC
Fire
Like Fire, I’m brave
Courageous
I have spark
Passion
Vigorous enthusiasm
But, like fire,
I’m also irritable
I destroy love, relationships,
And I burn bridges
I burst into sudden anger
Jealousy
Eruptions of past heartbreaks
But, unlike fire, I can be calm like
Air
I’m carefree
Kind-hearted
Too easily trusting
I’m independent
Optimistic
Diligent
Light and free flowing
But, like air,
I can be dishonest
Cunning
Backstabbing
Inconsistent
But, unlike air, I am forgiving like
Water
I am devoted
Modest
Intuitive
Loving
But, like water,
I’m taken for granted
Often over looked
Unstable
Unreliable
Rigid
Lazy
Violent and moody
But, unlike water, I am humble like
Earth
I am cautious
Resistant
Responsible
Sober
Ambitious
Respectful
Punctual
But, like Earth,
I’m touchy
Timid
Scornful
And periodically dormant
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
Falen Acon:
1.THE NERD...
He liked to read and was a straight A student and was very shy. (1 day relationship)
2. THE HOTTIE...
He was in love with himself and he hogged the mirror. (5 day relationship)
3. THE ****
He was to obsessed with football, basketball, track, and baseball and didn't pay me any attention and was to rough. (5 week relationship)
4. THE SKATER...
He cheated on me pretty much the whole time we went out and he had angry issues. (2 week relationship)
5. THE GAMER...
He played to many video games and was kind of forceful. (1 month relationship)
6.THE SMOKER...
He smoked to much **** and ciggs and i smelt like it and i don't even smoke and he was way to touchy and he fought to much. (1 month relationship)
Alexandria Christine Lund:
Top 5 worst boyfriends/girlfriends:
1. The 2 timer- She whined to much and apparently had a boyfriend, she wanted *** and was totally indecisive. (5 days)
2. The Stoner- He spent his time doing drugs and only wanted *** (3 months)
3. The Wannabe- He always wanted something else because I didn't fit in, he always lied he made up excuses even cheated. (5 months off and on)
4. The Fighter- He kept bragging about the military and wanted to constantly fight. (2 months)
5. The Worst- He treated me like a game, I made sure he never won it. (2 weeks)
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
since when did anatomy become strictly a school subject and not a ******* art? Stop practicing "oh no that's too much skin" "oh man she's a **** "aw dude you can see her ******* poking out" "she must be asking for *** with this picture/outfit/gesture/whatever the **** it is" well I want to say I'm TIRED of the shaming, the judgement, and harassment of people, not just women but people, being themselves and showing their bodies. we are all the same, we are all human. We all have the SAME. BODY. ******* PARTS. And if you can't handle that, a fact of life that is in your face every single day, then what the hell are you doing? Skin is and will always be strictly skin; it is an amazing thing, protecting our insides and keeping us sheltered, so why are we ashamed of it? Why do we place bans and judgements and assumptions on something so beautiful and substantial to living? Why is it so sexualized that a woman can't even breastfeed her child in public without saying "ew gross I can see her ******* Who ******* cares? EVERYONE has ******* and ******* for that matter. I bet people weren't saying that in Rome when people were always naked because it was considered "purity" but now that is the opposite in today's terms. So many wonderful pieces of history are being watered down or suppressed simply because *** and ****** are too "touchy" of subjects. Well I will not let such an artistic, beautiful, and innate thing such as my body be limited to what someone has to say about it or who it offends.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 11:13 PM UTC
touchy subjects.
hidden mistakes.
crashing thunder.
My heart, the rain.
Plundering down into the mess.
Trying to find hope in the dark.
Crying in a dark place.
trying to fix my mistakes.
fixing mistakes by not trying at all is not the way.
i tried.
but i made it worst.
No day is my day.
it really isn't
i say this not because i am broken or sad.
because isn't it true?
everyday belongs to the one who made it.
HIM.
He gave me another chance to live...
He gave me another day to breathe!
He sees potential in me that he would be willing to give me one more day to live.
When we die it's not that God didn't see the potential in us.
He gave all of us ample time.
Ample time to think.
Ample time to reflect.
Ample time to Love.
Amble time to Hope.
Ample time to help others, serve others.
The thing is.
I need happiness.
A true one.
"the one which would last."
I would ask.
I would want.
the one that would stick.
but surely.
through the storms i have been through.
i can rightfully and truthfully tell you,
that he gives true joy.
One that sticks for eternity.
One that is eternal, that will be.
One that is just so good.
so sweet.
so bliss.
so free...
i want that joy.
and you and i would never find it anywhere in any store.
True Joy.
True peace.
Is found in HIM.
The source.
The ONE.
He is the one I want.
The thing is...I already have him.
Serving him.
Has never been in second place in my "blessings" list.
It is so beautiful.
All of him that I have, would never be in second place of the list.
I want you.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
We All so touchy Feely..But we dont want to be held...All in everything...but we dont want to be found..So We hide in the tall grass..stalking out our prey...Please dont run to fast..Still i want You to stay...together well not really...Cuz I just want you for your soul...But Im so touchy feely...So your body is my goal...So pirate we should be mates...Im just looking for your booty...and If I walk you down my plank..I beg you dont be moody...Cuz you so touch feely...it only was a joke...hurt you no not really...Till you come stabbin at my thorat...then you will be held... accounted for your deeds..Quite down your loud...Cuz everythings a need...Cuz your so touchy feely...little things set you off...Hide it no not really...Cuz your mind to me is Lost...So can i bring it back..Is this really what you want...opposites attract...Touchy feely meet a Blunt....
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
busy verbalizing my merchandise
a display of teeth reefed behind my smile
because merchandise is what i am after
and The Revels watch over me
and laughter drains down through sewer grates
i am watched over
my potential client walks away
but returns again with queries
on this hot day
a smell like burnt hair raises from the gutters
and these are the streets that radiate
on this hot day
an honest clash and not some some touchy bout
and here we are
the costly coil of pushing business together ;
a lively thrive
thrifty **** you"s and a dressing down
circling the other and striking their buttons
interlaced within is a genuine pressing
toward each other goals
this partnership
swiftly made
has an extreme edge and chaotic balance
the both of us must master or abandon our productivity
shall we be served by this union
or sever fighting ?
unfit
it swerves and suffers a pity
let's keep this one brief
we manage business
handshakes
and scowl away with our wares
each of us feeling equally scammed
(we've made useful enemies at best)
i break out laughing all the same-how
and howl because i feel
that feeling that this could go on forever
and business has roots in all my moods
i crouch at the curb
the curb is abrasive
i sit
i look at the dry heat radiating off the tarmac
the slight greasy lime taste of the air passing
the roof of my mouth
the electric wires running hum into the buildings
the storm drains at the edges of the roads
where laughter siphons down to the magma of Hades
it is waning off now
and i feel vague
i stand and i scan for more players
i spot a vivid orange one
one that i may barter their aura of vigour
traded for my sketchy wares
Mar 12, 2022
Mar 12, 2022 at 9:55 AM UTC