this is not a ten stepper essay.  You are, and you admit it, full stop. Addicted to HP.  No help here.

but to answer the question...

the writing of a poem,
no matter what your style,
eye dropper word selection,
slow methodical,
or furious expelling, frying oil
until crescendo is achieved
is clearly a fulfillment of
a ****** type of need.

Afterwards,
after words,
when you repeatedly
check the number of likes,
it is just you asking me

was it as good for you
as it was for me?

Usually, eventually,
the answer is a
quiet, soft spoken,
very few reads version of:

"Uh, just let me sleep"
which means you will try again
in the the morning suncomeforth.

The adolescent Currawong
not exactly stumbling or tripping
is parrot-like as a junior, a
hopper and stepper in
the art of stalking and hunting

In a series of quick-steps and bounces
she moves sideways, most emphatic as
a survival enthusiast

She gazes, investigates and gathers the curios,
insects, rich dark worms
one gesture at a time

She is vigilant and persistent
through the dust
the soil, the grass
with instinct and practise

through her teachers
she thrives

MChallis © 2015

walking ever so slowly
down the sloping, lonely ramps
like no one's ever stared at you
you ignore my signals and signs
i'm calling your name quietly tonight
lookin' like i got into a fight
dancing over too you in the middle of my mind
i'm just trying to wind up finding your old signs
hanging in the doorway of your head
would i be crossing the line if i said
"before i saw you, i was the living dead"?

it really seems like everything was set up
looking up, not giving up
thought it was a waste of my time
until i got the courage to step over the line

swaggering smoothly toward me
trying & choosing to smoothly sway me
though i've seen your kind
i trip into your trap with eyes wide
animated lilies spring up around us
digital wind moves the grass, and i must
say that i think the ground feels familiar
beneath my feet, the soil's loose, you're my killer
i try to find your gaze, but it's lost in the dirt
never believe the words "this won't hurt"
that might be the biggest lie i've ever heard

Tap dance on girders, Ben Franklin Bridge
Jubilant prepubescent boy making mockery
Alpha doggie dodging any common sense
Step ball change and windmills free range
Little show off teetering on brink of disaster

And a dare of unabashed audacity
Stare, stare, and stare down his prey
Tap a whack tap, double time flick flack
Intensity that cannot possibly go away
Dared youth’s eyes give all hints to fear
Though no tear will come to his pride
Other boy steps and glides

Reach comes forward, disaster tap mongrel
Puppy stepper’s got to be a go-getter
Holds his hand out and comes quick the grab
Trembles a fright, Speedline in sight
This rail from Jersey to Pennsy might bite
Shaking and tapping, absurdum jacking

The slip; it’s over as you knew it would be
Alpha Dog sniffs that bridge to this day
Searching permissiveness, lost in foray
But if he hears one tap or a click or a clank
Jittery twitchiness, on that you can bank

Me-
“D” UP! “D” UP! put them hands up, hands up.
And I’m robbing folks on the pass if they slip up.
Don’t allow nobody to pass by you, move your feet.
Don’t go for every reach, just keep them in front of you my G.

They dealing with a team full of experts.
Juice & I will double-team, so squad be on high alert.
Make them work, cut off those passing lanes and
once they turn the ball over, we’ll be gone in an instant.


Juice-
Aye, look at these wanna be play makers.
Zay steal that, now pass that.
Cause I’m about to lob that to my boy Doug.
BOOM!!! I see you Doug with the 360 alley-oop dunk!

YOOO! Ball is thrown in, watch for the pass and skip!

Me-
No worries I got the ball my guy, don’t trip.
Here Juice! Run 54-hip.

Juice-
Aww snap! Time to ****!
I’m about to put the boys in their feels!

Cross-over stepper, step-back decker.
I’m a G.O.A.T. getter, nobody does it better.
Weak mismatches and easy pass dishes.
Pick & role to the pocket, they can’t stop this.

Zay-
Man, we about to hurt these fools on the other end too.
About to get tortured as we break their hearts in shambles.
And when we rock them and stop them at the rim, it’s straight blocking.
Even if they try to shoot, BLOCKA, BLOCKA, BLOCKA!

Juice-
It is what it is fam, to bad they about to lose.

Zay-
At the end of the day, what the hell they gonna do?

Juice-
Now this is epic. We got them looking pathetic.
I said what I said, ain’t no room to be apologetic.

I can see the pain you try and keep within your teeth..
It’s falling out your eyes,
Trailing lines atop the streets.
Why don’t you sit and talk with me,
My honest ears, just let it out.
I’ll keep it to myself,
Your achey words will never touch my mouth.

You see it as a million mountains
that you have to climb,
I try to show you there’s a simple path,
Just one you have to find.
The dam built in your eyes
Is spilling
Same goes for the one built in your mind.
I want to tear it down,
See you free,
See you running wild.

Imagining, I see your teeth are nothing but a cage
For your tongue,
Imagine all these words just rolling off ablaze.
Oh it would be amazing,
Tasting flare from all your fallout.
The plants retract their claims of faith,
The sun, it seems so dull now.
With you around,
Disaster’s but a shrug & we stay northbound.
Mushroom cloud stepper,
Red pepper, here I call out:
“I could always see your wings,
Since we sat, swaying on the swings.
A presence never made me melt the same,
I doubt one ever will again."
Every time I left the grounds
I kept you somewhere in my mind
Yet every time you wound up close to me
I’d hide behind my eyes.
You hadn’t left my mind but my reality
Had changed a lot
A bit of strength had shifted to my shape
& we could finally talk
Time had come to pass
I’m older, bolder, somewhat of an ***
I play guitar throughout the classes
Ashy from the mornings hash.
You asked me “Could I sing along?”
Or maybe I asked you,
Learned that I could Use Somebody,
hopes of getting close with you.
Our voices filling up the room
Fluorescent flowers start to bloom.
I see a supernova,
Open up my eyes,
all I see is you
I’m flashing back to heart attacks
When first graced by your presence
Now I’m living here in song
With you,
I fight to keep my breath in.
Just so I can let it go,
With time and tone, to flow & meet with yours
And form those meteors
Of heart and soul
We rode with no remorse.

Oh maybe I’m infatuated,
Maybe it’s all lust.
Maybe we are meant to be
But just haven’t fallen up yet,
I await your wings,
To show you things,
To grow and know you well.
You may just wait the same as me,
Only time will tell.

Part of my name means to step,
trying to find my feet,
can't save my rep,
hollow chest despite the bench press,
finding fuel so the next gen's set,
all for the fam like Vin diesel,
often times I'm very cheesy,
life and its lemons might just squeeze me.

Thankful for those who stay,
give me hope for a brighter day.

Wickedness or weakness?
I should probably not tweet this,
Nearly slipped in to an abysmal depth of despair but read and heard of an heir,
the grim reaper sewed me a ragged garment but i traded it for a glorious cloak i never deserved,
Gave me solace when i seemed stressed,
I felt my soul less with each step,
To be or not to be?
Neither left right nor centrist,
box me at your peril,
living with the most hopeful omen,
killing fear by the day,
The only way to drink the cup is to keep my eyes up,
Icarus: you can never get too close to the Son,
Part of the cure or disease?
don't know how many seconds till the clock stops,
sprinkle some joy in to this cold play,
imperative is change the narrative,
first to find the path to match my claim,
the freedom attained must be sustained,
Am I free?
Quod Erat Demonstrandum.

Dying petals adorn the sidewalk
They're varying pigments document life's varying stages of leaving,
Thwarts drafts of wind, their nature
to revel in my gaze
Not in act of personification,
They are not the object of attraction
No,
But a messenger to the careful stepper,
“Look up.”

What professions could you aspire,
with your sky-wide hands—a mountain for hire?

A stepper, a stomper, a mammoth barbarian?
Surely there’s something—must you be a librarian?

Look at your size! It doesn’t make sense!
You sat just now on the library fence!

The ‘brary doors open ‘low even your knees
The shelves at your toes! The people like fleas!

You could never succeed as a little librarian.
No less than a lion could eat vegetarian!

I told him all that. Fact, I told him twice!
But a dream is no more a gift than a vice.

For my giant had dreamt of a future so long
filled with books-upon-books, snug where they belong.

He’s clung too far n’ too fast to simply comprise,
‘for he’ll give up his dream, he’ll alter his size!

Thus he searches the land for the littlest books,
hoping each tiny page will change how he looks

One day, he imagines, he’ll fit through those doors.
He’ll walk through the stacks—how a dream can endure!

With thousands of little books scooped up in his arms,
the giant starts reading ‘til he’s learned every word.

But a thousand, a million, no number of verses
could shrink down that giant to the size of a person.

Closing the cover, his dreams ‘gan to fade
the shelves and the stacks—the future he’d made.

‘til a comforting voice squeaked all of a sudden
What a wonderful book! Could I check out this one?

The giant looked downward, right under his nose
at a thousand odd books shelved right in his toes

I warned and I cautioned, now I must carry-in,
no ‘brary keeps books like the giant librarian!

I’m stuck in this maze, that has no end.
I run and I run yet no one has help to lend.

I feel the world tugging, me down a bit,
telling me I’m worthless and that its time to quit.

There are so many corners, and so many edges, its hard to avoid falling off the countless ledges.

Person after person, comes to yell in my ear,
“its time to quit running, you have no luck here.”

I start to think they are all a little bit right,
I’ve tried my best and held on with all my might.

The labyrinth is smarter and better too,
I’ve tried so hard and still am yet to make it through.

Its time to give up I say to myself,
as I take once stepper closer to the tallest of shelves.

I hang my foot just over the edge,
and remember the struggles that pushed me to this ledge.

Its over I repeat again and again in my head,
I step off the shelf and now I am dead.

We were going on a cruise, he and I.
The package read, “Two Elegant Evenings.”
Romance and I envisioned his arms wrapped around, my waist—
Small, us staring into each other’s eyes.
I put it all together, blue shoes, shimmery blue stockings, jewelry, and the
Little blue dress,
That night, on the boat, I pulled the dress out.
My man didn’t stare at me, or into my eyes.
Sitting down, to put on my makeup,
He said, “Do you really have to wear that much eye makeup?”
He stared at the other girls, and their dresses,
Sometimes looking over me, or past me, to get a better look.
And when I cried, “I’m ugly,” because I felt ugly, he said,
“Don’t worry, I’m ugly, too.”
On the boat,
He really liked the dancer girl, who worked out at the gym,
On the stepper machine, telling me, “Your **** is flat.”
When I got home, I threw the dress away,
And stared at my ****.

skies and trees
lakes, rivers, and countries.
Stars, moons, and sun. Something
for everyone. Jungles, forests

and blooming gardens. Mountains
deserts and crystal waterfalls. Buildings over
a thousand feet tall. You can't see it
all in a lifetime. I'm drunk on it

as if it was moonshine. Have the eyes
of a child. Look at a butterfly and
smile. Hot as a chili pepper. Swing as
a dance hall stepper. Don’t sit as bump

on a log or bellow as an old
bullfrog. The colors are golden and
crimson. Unlock the door of your
prison!

You got to appreciate
You got to be great
It's a wicked caliber
It's a little story
Some sonic glory
Control
Wicked satellite
Just right
Harder than a gunshot
Hard than the steel
The way of the explosive
Ire
Rasta is Higher
Yeah
Control
Fire.....The soul desire
Mighty, yeah
Youth them a shock out
The youth them shock out
Stepper
So pass the pepper this is hyper
Yeah
Y'all
Next man give some loving
Next man give some loving
Never mind a gun shot
Never mind a lick shot sir
Harder than the gun shot
Quicker than a win chun fighting - right on
Higher
Control
Rock it
Rock it
Rock it
Control
Yush
Mighty
Harder than the gun shot seen
Harder than the steel
The way of the explosive
Ire
Rasta is higher, yeah
Controller
Wicked satellite
Just right, yeah
All night
It's a little story
Some sonic powerful glory y'all
The stronger the breeze
The stronger it blow
Mighty y'all yeah
Jah
Wah, yeah this guy's ultra

I can't sleep/
Thinking too much/
Bell ringing outside the window/
And something's wrong with my stomach.../

Distant voices mumbling incoherently in discord/
A broken record gradually amplified to distortion/
Abort mission failure: mental patience stillborn/
The red pill can't be cancelled by the reborn; sorry/
Johnny's in the corner again, near the toilet/
And I'm not talking to myself, you're just not special/
Red Bull in a china shop; Lucifer in the sky with kaleidoscope/
Eyes on me while I try to close my.../
Vicious cycle; vivid psychedelic psychological spiral/
Habitual line-stepper, part-time pathological liar/
Aspiring sociopath with a mask for the outsiders/
A walking contradiction if the shoe fits/
The truth is confusing when you're tuning in & out of reality/
Imbalanced; my chemical romance is in tatters/
Distracted by the static and theatrical behaviour/
If you give me a Pepsi, I'll let you evaluate me psychiatrically/
I claim I want to change, but I'm just babbling/
It's too hard; I always give up, or give in to the whispers/
They win again! I wanna pull the pin, and end it all/
I'm a radiohead, with no metal in my skull... yet/
My idle threats are just cries for attention/
If I paid more than seeking it, then maybe I could get some/
Introspective only after episodes/
Life's a drama TV show about a lonely bipolar girl/
Mind remote control has vertigo and stubborn buttons/
Don't push me 'cause I'm close to the cutting edge of self-destruction/
My lousy husband even wrote a ****** poem about it/
All I have to say is that it takes one to know one, Hunny/
Either way, I'm awake - I can't sleep/
Thinking too much; I think something's wrong with me.../

You're just not special/
You're just not special/
I can't sleep/
Thinking too much/
Bell ringing outside the window/
And something's wrong with my stomach/
Distant voices mumbling incoherently in discord/
A broken record gradually amplified to distortion/
Abort mission failure: mental patience stillborn/
The red pill can't be cancelled by the reborn; sorry/
Johnny's in the corner again, near the toilet/
And I'm not talking to myself, you're just not special./