March 1

shake rattle and roll
my heart do
unaccustomed to warmth
in the bosom of
affection

chose joy at sunrise
though fever called
my name

joy - she don't want me
chick thinks misery's
a perfect fit

misery - that bitch
needs people
me ... i fly solo

and i chose joy
she may not
want me
but i need her
in my life

told you so

my divinity
ain't always divine...
sometimes it's greasy
chicken wings
w/extra hot sauce
in brown bag simmer

headspace

she awoke in throws of deep despair
searching cerebral cortex for traces of his adoration
probing tympanic membrane for whisperings of passion untold...
longing for comfort of fine sinewy frame..
surely someone loved her?
Am I not real? she cried..
or have I become the definition of my desire...
does strength belie a weakness of want
or is existence simply context,
subtext no text for love illiterate?