i haven’t said anything funny in a poem in a long time

i think, i have to live my whole life in this body, and then i cry

about that, i haven’t yet asked why

but i do decide to spend my time looking inside

you want to know why? or what do i see?

me, me, me, me, more of me

life moves on, eventually

sometimes, the animus recedes

i have to buy weed to work on my poetry

so i need someone to give me money

i get a new job for me

me, me, me, me, more of me

there are things

there are things about me

that are not to be taken lightly

my gift of psychometry

no one believes me

the way my subconscious talks to me

no one believes me

i cling to poetry