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that’s it
choke the bell
I’m done
throwing to pigs
empty stares at me
vacuous and unclear
and always the freak
of too much intensity
as if there were
such a thing
point me the way
I’m going to hell
in a hand basket
case begun
the waste shut
my full-blown gasket
I’ve tripped up
and then some
charged with the weight
of their trumped up hate
no more lengths and
fuck all the measures
I’m calling it now
in all of its bullshit
I’m sick of the pressure
built up for miles
getting rid of the toxic
time to rile up this style
I trust my instincts
learned like readings
Insight is impersonal seeing
into the core intents
of your darkest feelings
while keeping your eye
on the ball’s rolling
Time flowing ticking
by mercilessly
my diaries
wrapped in poetry
layers obscuring
non-linear revealing
exposing nakedly
innermost meaning
trimming out circumstance
going into the heart
of the broken tender

You get it exactly
the way it is
without the excess
direct and honest
is how I love best
the balancing arts
of juggling tests
in real time
with filled hands
the work never ends
We makes no sense
especially not here
and perhaps I will always be
a work in progress
aim for the empty
discover the plenty

Freedom is the open sky
where we glide
taking flight
forgetting to fall
but right now
I feel it all
raw and uncut
the reel rolling wounds
salt on the busted and bruised
fat lipped truths
still pouring blood
his smile is a balm
and the knife
undemanding and beaming
he calls me romantic
like it’s not a bad thing
with that serious kindness
that’s always laughing
behind his eyes

I feel pretty tragic
and I’m restored for a moment
not hideously deformed
his goodness the nurturing
drops for my soul
like a beaten puppy
I can’t take anymore
than tiny bits
or I’ll overdose
but that’s how it heals
by experiencing normal
giving and taking
and I ignore the obvious
in how he moves me
the instincts of want
that want to reach out to touch

I keep calm and carry on
I don’t give an inch beyond
and he doesn’t ask for it
I just bask in his warmth
secretly marveling
how he sees me whole
complete with the dings
and I say nothing
but I recognize and admire
my keeping it disciplined
confined to the spiritual
my beauty’s intellectual
yet deep down I aspire
to see myself more with the light
through his beautiful sight
and how that shapes everyday
the way I live
my life
he makes stirs me
to love openly
own my will
root down into what’s real
even if we’re just two trains
passing each other
in the night