Thou yet unravish'd apple of the earth,
Had thou been the issue of a tree, most
Would swear thou are what gave evil birth,
As some kind of Mephistophelean host,
To entice the stressed, as well as bored,
With your crunchy, oily, salty snare,  
A potato-y communion slice,
Where beauty is truth, truth's beauty there -
The facts of which can not be ignored.
If only one could just suffice.

microwave food or
conversations, but
lasting love is best
prepared in a crock ***.

her acrid smell revives me,
animating my dreams and
arousing my slumber,
enlivening my spirit.
she then cuddles with me in
in the brisk morning air.
she partakes breakfast
and inspires me to be
someone better than myself
without saying a word.

the comfort zone is not a place.
you can't touch, hear or see  it.
instead, it's that amount of grace
the universe will remit.

but, if you should be found outside
this determinate that's not 3d,
there is one truth that can be implied
you're with splendid company

while (true) {
   if (in (time-space))
      raise(vibration)
   else if (in (space-time))
      raise(consciousness)
}

Honeymoons may be many things, but
They aren't some measurement of time,
More often they are diagnostic tools,
Dead battery, a check engine light,
Low oil, no seat belts, or low on fuel.

you're a songless earworm,
a mind loop.  you keep bubbling,
percolating, rhythmically
strumming my ability
to think of anything else.  

i can't get you out of my mind.