theres no verbs left to use.
poetic visions replaying on repeat
show me something I cant see
that One something only you see

would you allow me to look thru you?
past all the threaded fabrications and suave bravado,
cant bullshit a bullshitter
but you know that.


how about little blue light action in the your
rear view mirror while elegantly stoned
forgetting where the stash was stashed at
not even your car

and oh yeah..
I have to be your best friend
if its not ok with you then im not really with you.
my flaw?
i dont think so
disillusionment?
who cares anymore
dissociation?
from what and why?

someone Real this time
does time stand still for such meetins, -psycho·ki·neti·cal·ly-?

if you will it
will it if you?
i gotta get there with you for that answer.
shall we?
take a look at the past and see where
it has gotten you so far. and say goodbye to that
hellos are better actions

Nice. To paraphrase a bonsai artist I met once, poetry is like sex, the rougher the better. Only he was talking about jin, which is broken dead wood.