speak basic and listen to the flowery poets of our time,
the ones that say so much with so much and so much and say nothing at all.
the ones that hate Bukowski but love Cheesecake Factory,
I see you,
but I still love you,
because unlike you,
I know everyone is flawed and frayed and nothing is truly really ours anyway.
I am all glamour filtered lie,
I am you on dollar bills stuck lovingly on the inside of my thigh,
old cigarette burns on my labia majora,
because bodies are ours to make into fauna and flora,
I don’t like repeating myself, it is the cynical death of my creativity,
to not be listened to the first time, the first time, the first time,
three chants conjure up gates of teeth and tongue and a medley of horses and daffodils,
all basic world things that depress and suppress the real idea behind what we think sets us apart from every other living human thing with the same parts,
almost but not quite.
That’s the thing I will say once more, mostly to myself because like most, I am in disgust of the breathing lives that I come across on my trips to the grocery store,
I’ll say it once, only once, only once,
don’t ponder or cry when I say it…
promise you’ll try to see the reasons why,
take a seat,
lay down and look at the big vast blue sky,