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she can hear the bell
striking twelve times
another day has passed
with another opportunity missed
she cannot sleep
and wonders
if the same
will happen today
or will she have the strength to do
what she should have done
a long time ago
I look at you and wonder
why our roles have changed
but just when I begin to worry
you hug me and smile
I can feel your love
reaching my soul
and making it dance with joy
and I understand
that it does not matter
if our roles have changed
as long as the love
we have for each other
has stayed the same
I know that I have lost you, forever.
Although, I never truly had you.
I can feel that you're really gone.
You don't appear in my dreams anymore.
We don't talk like we used to.
It's silly.
I feel stupid for loving you unintentionally.
I lost myself in your gaze.
In your eyes.
God, your eyes.
What kills me is the false hope I still have and still hold on to.
That I can't seem to let go of.
I know that you will never love me,
Or see me the way I that I do.
I feel stuck between wanting you to be happy,
And wanting to be your happiness.
I can't have both.
You don't see happiness with me.
You never will.
It kills me.
I don't know how to set you free.
I am struggling.
Thoughts of you ******* me at night,
In the morning when I wake up.
I am addicted to imagining a perfect future with you.
One where we are so happy.
And you have chosen me.
My mind spirals and I lose myself in this illusion of you and I.
I snap out of it when I remember, that you love someone else.
I picture you and her together instead,
And somehow, you seem happier.
And I break down.
"Why does he not love me?"
"What is wrong with me?"
"Why am I not enough?"
"I wish I was her."
I slide back into the illusion hours later, and repeat the cycle over, and over,
And over again.
I don't know what to do anymore.
How to make it stop.
I feel sick.
I need medication to get you out of my system.
I am battling to set you free.
I pray to God,  to give me back my strength so that I can set you free.
These emotions worsen.
I don't know how to let you go.
I have spent so many months admiring you.
I can't figure out, what I am lacking so badly within myself, to feel this way about you.
Something must be wrong with me.
Maybe lack of self love.
I don't know.
I just know that it hurts.
And I would do anything for it to stop hurting.
It was never my intention to obsess over you.
I saw a potential life partner, and I wanted to love you.
For a while, I thought you felt the same way too.
I don't know if it was all in my head.
I don't know if it's possible to be so delusional.
I struggle to believe that.
I know what I saw, and what I felt every time we locked eyes.
All the moments we shared.
The way that you looked at me,
talked to me.
I may never know.
I just want us to both be free.
I want you to be happy.
I want to find happiness too.
Even if it means letting you go.
Make two fists.
Slit my wrists.
Feeling lost in a wreck.
Slash my neck.
Free me from suffering.
My life, I give as offering.
End me.
Free me.
For life has no meaning.
Light has ceased beaming.
Where is God?
I am null and void.
I don't belong.
I sing this sad song.
So I make two fists,
Slit my wrists.
Into the darkness I drift.
With my heart at a rift.
Should I live?
Or should I die?
So, I make two fists.
Imagine I've slit my wrists.
Nothing makes any sense.
The world is dense.
I wish someone would slit my wrists.
While I make two fists.
It's not death I fear.
It's living, constantly in fear.
On this very spot,
I thought I re
co-knew, we
two, were meant to
become compleat, once,
each breeding pair
preselected,
to harmonize, meet,
certainly, we may say,
we can believe we know,
we bear fruit for seasons,
time after time, as ware we
are apt to rethink how clouds

without rain dismay some minds,
hot, midsummer working winds,

efforting effectually pulling power
out of perpetual ice now known not
perpetual but not precisely predictable/

here, in mind,
not a wit behind, Dequincy, a leap beyond
Elon, in mind adventured intelflux basic acid
tested will to meet after ever leaves Earthian,

alienation situations some say we all pass through,
some small percentage still carry coins, for our passage,
and to hold our eyes closed through the viewing, proving

s-sure,
strange just
suddenly, no life, just
surity, good credit, then

he is dead, that body, there's no sense in the embalming,
the earth shall eventually break down the royal sarcophagus,
even the satin lined, ultra deep tucked, for eternal rest assured,
and the triple hermetic seal… micro metal flake pearlescent lid,

shall crumble, under the weight of final rest and return to dirt.

But, rest, really assured, all you ever are, never was but
the stuff stars become when they go molecular.
Peer test experience, ***** wars and memories shared with a friend who knew Dennis Conti, a victim worth exposing poets to, as with Coleridge, the licensed madness is an added perq, not a curse, honest.
When courteous behavior,
-is demonstrative conception
public display not playing, serious
weform clouds
of knowing anonymous unknew as
we, the not good Babel was proposed
to end, or keep veiled in mystery
until the time prophesied,
new winds, new gyres, old loops

when no closed beneficence loops
are not disclosed, lids left ajar
to sufficient
audience.

Dunbar designators ding, we think
this
could become mirror neuronically
true…

Monkeys washing yams,
mimesis minds mime watch
studies map mean points in trends
watching work done was, yea, is as
we are
by our very virtue verily true man
knack with sense sharing, good
for most, bad for some, hero,
front and center, fully simultaneous
myelinated dual brain, instant ifey
whenever two or more agree, we
develop a documented ability, us
use, we used to think, words, we say if
is as if was, word users saying words
we obediently define, saying as
speaking used spelled orders
to put dhe, here, I stand,
to where I reach, I defend as
any carnally minded creature may,

- there's the fiction friction, say
- queue the answer, play the theme,
- remind the audience, we already
- know, this pattern, that trait, we seeing
- us as those same protected by standers,
- benefitting from good, despite gritty real,
- glittering like a Trump structure reality TV
2025
It is a fine sunny day in May, high in the Cuyamacas,
far from the mob-ilized defenders of JWST boundaries

on what we all may learn to be a bit in, a particle,
accelerated once past now to then when you read me  

to assure one's self sense reflex
adrenal rush, to remain, alive
and kicking… to remain, resting easy,
atop a cake of congealed lipids
treading water, waiting
good sense

as common senses keep evolving,
as our means for making it increases.
Were one given extra years or months or days or hours, one may ever stretch such whiling life's final phone call from and
it ain't easy, when you relate, restrict and delegate,
when you draw a narrow lane on a highway that says
only left footed
poets need apply
<>
it does not say
slow cars stay to the right,
only trucks,
or oddly even,
no trucks



I love seasonality,
without thickly thinking
you take a break
from the poetry writing

one day I'll figure out a way
to monetize my love poems,
publish them as Shakespeare's couple(t)s,
"new edition plus
a couple of
newfound poems!"

maybe some fools will buy some thinking Shakespeare has been, resurrected!

love grows goes hot all over and
grow slower older
and grow colder,
in between those fine
ticklish teasing moments


when the miracle of resurrection repeats itself

something is said
a gesture is made
a finger strokes the cheek,
unexpected
and it all comes
rushing back again,
overfilling
that coffee cup mug she bought
just(ice)
for you

ain't gonna check how long it's been
since last I declaimed, disclaimed,
inflamed,
these pages with an only love poem

but I do know this:
it is something I think about,
It is something I know about,
it is something I feel about
daily
even on the nothing days,
when routine takes over
I know you couldn't remember of its passage,
is the waking up and the lying down to sleep


but the poets eyes are always open his emotive secret senses,
always alert,
what's that thing they always say,

his heart just wasn't in it!
(🥴if they only knew the truth😘)
In the dessert she did grow
like a rose without a thorn
shooting up towards the sun
Sofia's rose is next to none

In the sand a jewel bright
lost inside a sky so blue
aiming for the heaart
she rose, like a speckled rose  

Blooming without rain she did
in the font of her sweet-heart
wells of happiness did grow  
inside Sofia's heart, airflow !
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