THAT MARK SHOULD GLOW IN THE DARK TOO

HERE’S TO RECIPROCITY LAYING LOW.  SHAPES ARE GOOD.

MAKING RESCUE

Emotive Portland People singin judgements in the streets.

you rubbin off on me, nothing complete.

it always gets to the point where its

incomprehensible

where it’s childish to consume

where everyone wants to get angrier,
shake and then pretend they haven’t made anyone upset.

when someone else helps them get better.

never mind how it looks on the outside it is not how it feels on the inside.

why’s it feel like we’re all waiting for the girls to start singing in the kitchen?

the kitchen where everyone has the exact one they take home.

RIBBIT, HICCUP, SNIFFLE, DROP IT

The words come together and fall apart. They don’t stay attached, strung to each other in the way they were that one time, when i wanted to write it down, before now.

The fleas bite, he leaves.

Going away to a new love that helps us grow.
I can’t say us any more.
He said it’s not “we”, “this is all you”. Everything to be your own artist.
Your own artist.  Your own art. Your own. Your own.
Why does ownership over ride everything?

Collaborating with others, working together, feeling equal.  Weight can be respected.  Confidence builds in the things others can’t see, the things i feared. They are just things i feel. Others feel too. There are things i could not see before, others could not see before. The periphery, what was at one time out of bounds, is coming into focus. The picture is growing.

Apart, i remember there really is no canvas. It, not we, not only me, not only him or her, can grow infinitely bigger. Health abounds, and sadness. They will grow.  There is no stopping what we have started.

I slipped again.
Not We
You
Me

I am admittedly slow.
I slip at this speed.
Do you keep up?

i am reminded of mortality, growing old before, before, before. Do it now or never. Like that bad Shepard says : “Only the Rebellious crave for happiness in this life.”