The Allure to Love an Evil-Man is seen by many
As virtuous.
Read too much Machiavelli in late-nite swindals
And 3am Music Videos sounded me to Sleep
And Blood-Benders
And Hotel Room 404-237
Were the ones that kept me up at night.
Listless in drowsiness-
And I hadn’t slept for some time that I had forgotten
In underground silo of grain
What I had last listened to
As I had already forgotten what the Sun looked like had shone.
Days of envy, as I perused Nature Photography and wonder
What Life was Like, up there.
The First Time my Xcholital had seen grass was mind-boggling to me,
Just as I had stepped forth of my first pile of ash I swept up from essential oils
Fuming and burning
And the Lavender and Echinacea perfume
That aerated the sky in
tolidoze utter-sunshine
Always beckoned Disaster.
Act of God.
And the Sand Dunes,
Were just to mod the vehicle to see how much higher,
I could climb,
Before it turned to Cut-Swamp
Rock-Hill Climbs.
And my dune-buggies that seemed egregious in the Desert,
Mutually, enjoy the feel of granite.
Scraped, and burned.
Tossed + Turned.
I’ve carried a First Aid Kit with me
Since I was at least 11, because I’d buy it myself.
Panic Attack soother,
Deescalation, brave accommodation
And I Advocate for other Holy Figures
That were branded Sick + Voracious
With privy, unclaimed dreams
That were not to be breatehd, but damned.
And my Teammate, my go-to, the sick individual
Of Regrets-Noticable-Too.
The Squabble of Squab.
And Pigeon Poo.
He takes the the Abuse I harken
And detail
And litter in my minutiae of collected-thought
And I grow closer to your Origin,
And who made you The Golem.
And I don’t even have to pull in squad car, nor helicopter,
Nor ambulance.
I merely whisper in my Love’s Ear
And I love you’s on the chests and pecks on the cheek
And arms thrown around me.
Pops over the Phone,
Do not excite me.
Though; I trust him with my everything.
I don’t do the cleaning up anymore in work.
That’s what Promotions are For.
I assign the List.
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