i stumbled over some ol words/the ones i never gave to you for fear they’d lead to something different/something else other than what we got now/not like this is the best there’s ever been, but damn if i’d give it up for anything/anything more than you/the idea of us/that prospect of bein yours as you’d be mine/can ya ‘magine that?/can ya ‘vision that?/the chance of gettin you when you gettin me/not carin cuz that’s the way it should be/me on you/you on me/doin it right like we ought to/make it good/make it better/make it the best/make it love like we should do/can ya picture that?/picture the eternity not as a length of time but as the moment we spend holdin’ one another/givin one another that look/that stare/that constant curiousity, the questions asked and answered but asked again for who cares for answers when the enigma’s so dynamic/so brilliant/god, i just wanna get to know you/the whole you/all of you/everything ’bout you/give you a chance to know me/the whole me/everything ’bout me/from my thoughts to my family/they belong t’ you if you belong t’ me/just tell me true and it’ll happen/you n me/me n you/the us we always wanted/the two/the one/the smile you’ve always to-me granted
musings & scribbles
the chipper woman noises
presents her presence
in effect of
goading acknowledgement
maturity is knowledge, not of what one may do,
but of what one already does
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 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
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.
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.