maturity is knowledge, not of what one may do,
but of what one already does
Posts published in “Poems”
whose eyes are wavey,
loading heavy my own
’til, fallen, i break from her
in chance some pull gives reason ‘nough
for speech or sight
lost on insecure sea,
while i, the floater,
hope not ‘ be seen
as, soon, i may
hold
toward movement
from any spoiled
&
nb
sp; ‘lations
linger’d
and find way
from stance
in
darted-sway
a mental hernia is as the unwatered seed– dry, but still thirsting for a means to grow
expand
live
follow
lead
align with any other constance
consequence
pedestrian
so mad, this time when thought leaves and instinct,
the natural,
the constant,
emerges.
the more of you that is known by me,
the more i wish to know you more.
this is not fair to you,
for you need not my emotions placed upon your person.
this is not fair to me,
as the more of you i know, the more emotion i place
within my thoughts of you,
without such emotion given by you,
merely
taken by me
from you.
the connection,
the grasp of
others’ importance,
the creation
of others’ importance
; a confusion
disorientation
a singe’ing of
prickling of
the nerve
for loss/
gain/
regret
of others
just
full of disappointments,
those
wishes let sit for
no reason other
than no other reason
all depending ‘pon the way,
i imagine a blank canvas, saturated in
holes/the darkest holes/the craters
of eyes’ comets, those
trailed-ones let freeze from melt of ‘motion, that
valve-clenching pattern over nerve
you know stops, but not when,
until you know nothing else.
seek clarity of self;
‘llow less of want;
forge thought as steel,
from extended heat
to smoothened cool,
for bring of sharpened length.
in today’s society,
it’s hard to tell the
crazies from
the normies–
you see
someone talking to themself,
and then find a wire
attached to their caller.