When it all feels inevitable,

when no mistakes are made ; when it feels clean coming off the bat, I feel that.

Were just gliding over it, singing it //                    feeling that

Despite the fact our feet are soaked, digging into the clay, pouring over every line.

Responsible enough to light that candle in the first place, to not put it further along in the margins.

to misspace it, to not let it be a poem of its own.

                                   Feeling that.

Responsible enough at least to ignore the search bar, and the canals.

     to not let it become a poem of its own.

Despite the fact that not enough people emphasize emphasis with ALL CAPS

that I have seen at least,

I , the masochist.

I haven’t even curled my toes yet,

I, the Masochist.

When it all comes pouring out and the pain runs down your arm and into your bed, too.

Into yours dreams, with me,

IN me.

Sometimes it doesn’t,

sometimes it wont,

sometimes its an infestation,

      IN me.

It isn’t just one line, or stanza or verse,

it’s the whole vehicle ; the entire collision.

Sometimes, it isn’t . Its the song we wanted to hear, needed to hear,

the lowest common denominator.

A cry for help,

no encryptions, a crop circle; a familiar smell.

       A mile away.

IN me,

IT is me.

No hieroglyphics , IN me ; IT is me.

A shakedown

or maybe its not…. or wasn’t.