deacon- being among saints, who do not have
a home- they are austere, they are not
grateful for roofs over their heads. and if i have
been dreamed about, i am among, assisting
with commitments- that
plasma predetermined, weaved into my helix-
the genetic happenstance. you run
according to the runniness of the family.
if reality turns out to be scientifically proven...
"evidence" is not enough. i can make up that shit.
pride is in the way is why,
pride is always in the way. that's its job. i kind of
had to bow to it in order to realize
it is hurt. my poor damaged *pride* is
what is hurt beyond all my other
internal experiences. there doesn't need to be
a scale to prove this. i want to live, but
i don't want to live like this:
how i've got to be so careful because
everything has danger-potential. are they traps?
all. that is, but love. but like,
don't even let the, so to speak, "guard" down
even with that, because i'll flip out
and believe i'm being attacked
and tell everything ever to fuck off. they will,
because they don't understand you mean that-
but *at the same time mean just as much*:
"please don't ever fuck off." referring to opposite action
is hard and really annoying, especially
when you're not in the therapy program wherein
they teach you that kinda thing.
but really, love doesn't
have it in or of itself to be mean- it's all uncoiled
started that way, slightly awake because
kinda startled, and slithered
in a way that feels good
and is still doing that because it is still
curious- that which never gives up- nor
gives, gives back, gives into- just doesn't
hey little choo choo that could- story
of love....i'm totally chasing you through the woods.