Game

Play fetch
Hypokarmic
Thermochondriac

I______you
hide and _go ignore my innermost desires.
_________fuck yourself

It is

Yearning.
A cat, purring,
pressing down warm and fuzzy
on my navel. It stretches and I feel claws.

New Orleans. I love you. I love your strangeness, I love your clouds. I love it all, down to the dog shit scraping off the bottom of my Chucks.

Coming on suddenly, she had bear claws and puppy-dog eyes.

The mailbox post stood like a frontier tombstone.

Leaving a wet bloody metallic taste after every swig, it led to a vicious cycle- always drinking more to try and erase that flavor.

A heady high, just from trying to keep your balance.

Wobbling like a walrus.

An alliterate illiterate.

One door rusts from beneath.

Catching it in the digital age.

Peace, love, and harmony, but don't borrow my bandwidth. The yoga studio owner didn't own up to her wifi.

Talk about the weather.

Tongue in cheek? Hardly. Weather is one of the most vibrant, nuanced, mischievous metaphors for life imaginable. Each engagement on the subject has potential to unravel personalities and reveal secret desires. It is a brilliant way to bide time while guaranteeing relationships' progress, always in pursuit of realization. Popular culture, politics, sports...all pales in comparison to the simple majesty of the weather.

Work in progress...

I wanted to say,
you're the very definition

of affect.

But I looked it up.

apparently;
the act
of taking on,
or displaying,
an attitude or mode
of behavior not genuinely felt,

grandiosity and
pretension

is maybe
not very nice to say.

I want to say though,
It's lovely when you do it.

Because I thought about it,
and even though this wasn't
what I meant to say,
it's what I mean.

Aren't you the one who told me?
That you used to be so full of it, that
you never really listen?

Well, I don't care.
It's beautiful when you do it.