His arm is over my waist as I sleepily adjust.
Bristles of an old, worn curtain against my hip.
I can feel that.
That scratchy cloth barely grazing my thigh made me feel more alive. I knew I had to be alive.
No way I’m dead.
I would like to be the first ghost who feels a breeze.

I have a confession to make. I’m a trust fund baby
and a member of the educated Elite.

In my defense, I'm a newcomer in both categories.
I got my trust fund at 18 and graduated Yale University this year.

I was a double major, at university, in biochemistry and celibacy,
until as a sophomore, I met this tall, handsome, awkward, disheveled, physicist in a coffee shop and knavishly schemed my way into his life.
(He insists that he knavishly schemed his way into my life.)

Let’s get poetic-ish..

I said,
“Let’s start a flirtationship
abstract, immaterial and fun.
We have a little chemistry - an interesting.. tension.
Could we just have an involvement and not read into it?
Something  friction free, hands free, germ free, and guilt free?
Let's get a pizza, don't worry, I'm paying."

Of course, that was a lie.
I had designs, I wanted him in the utmost
and honestly, when do I not get what I want?

"I was by far the knavishist." I admitted.
"Then you don't know knavishEST.," he responded, shaking his head 'no'.
.
.
songs for this:
Honeypie by JAWNY
Really Saying Something by Bananarama & Fun Boy Three
Hanging On the Telephone by Blondie

On a voyage
In the sea of knowledge.
Each and every page -
A new stoppage.

Many pages bound together
With a cover made of leather.
Pages as white as white feather,
All the information I gather.

A structured presentation
With graphical representation.
A sky of narration
And a table of notation.

Starting with table of contents
Then onset of concepts
Rich with facts and experiments
To every curious thought, I give vents.

From physics to chemistry
I resolve biological mystery.
From philosophy to history
A road to your intellectual mastery.

All about General Reginald Dyer
And explaining how do plants transpire
From magnetic field around a wire
To E=mc².

she met him at the lumber yard
he thought she worked there

she said she hated lights  
and got a little slutty when it was
dark after a beer or two

she said she loved trucks
and mother nature

he said jump In mine
I know a dark field

handing her an ice cold
six pack of Schmitz

~esk 20 July 2025

arranging the tiles
and sorting production chits
must happen to start

I will not trade ore
trades should benefit us both
I’m building a city

P)erspective is a kind, optimistic one
O)ne that is playful and fun
S)eeks answers in a adventures way
I)n the mind the light outshines the grey
T)ruth seekers in this lying, destructive world
I)ndirectly impacting and affecting another’s world
V)ictims to hate and utter destruction
E)ven moving with a head held high though the corruption

welcome to my brain

I was born upside down,
Preikestolen in my spine,
Baldr whispered, “Run wild,”
and I never learned to walk—only charge.

I meditate in chaos,
hold breath till the silence shivers.
Doctors panic.
I just smirk.
Two minutes is peace to me.

I kick air to remind gravity
that I’m still the boss
and punch walls of thought
just to hear them echo.

Luzifer lights my thoughts—
not evil, just awake.
Baldr wraps them in gold.
Shaolin monks?
I’d spar one,
bowing with bruises and respect.

Poetry drips from my lungs
like fog off the fjord.
I speak in sparks and
rhyme with thunder.
My mind’s a temple with no roof—
every god welcome
as long as they listen.

I am ADHD
in motion and meaning.
A storm wearing headphones.
A spliff-lit oracle.

And if you feel too much—
if your heart rattles like mine—
don’t run.

Sit.
Breathe.
Roar.