say what you will
what you’re thinking is

boobs

p.s. take that noranoir

its awkward when you look
over my shoulder at what
i write and i feel so emasculated
as my words leak from my watched
hands
like a pot… watched…. i dont boil?

the question remains
do i get paid more
for leaving behind skid
marks as i pinch and squeeze
and struggle my way home
knowing i left my house
in far too loose a condition
to be running around with
these lubed up bowels

and making it home
on time?
*sort of?

flight brought tears
not to my eyes
but to an (interesting rhyming concept)

did you ever know that i eat gyros?
i’ve always been a fan of real greek food
i can get plenty at the foodcourt
’cause you are the one who buys me things

flat paper edges on
paper cut fingers from
pulp of evergreen

seems oddly white under
my fingers

its odd for a man so vein as i
to peel back the flesh and find
the underneath so bloody red
and oozing with forgotten pus

with lack of picture support
my words
they atrophy
wishing they’d been backed
by waves or at least a sunset
instead of contrasted so
painfully black on white
and surrounded by
nothing but white space

you take things so dirty
and word them so beautiful
you cause me to
desire to speak the things
i despise the most

and then back them up with
czech etymologies

for the words i wrote last night
and published into the neversphere
i forget what you said
but your brilliance will live in
the foreversphere

on flight through a campus on two legs
old trees seem newer than beer kegs
we stop to walk slow
on ground they dont mow
“graduate” me to God begs

and despite it’s otherwise stunted growth
manages to stand on its on 5 legs
and crawl blissfully into the barren
future