You broke into my home,
while I was in the middle of something.
My heart had the will of its owner.
If you’re going to surprise me, I request you come up behind me.
Because men for me are spirits in real bodies.
Must be. But for the time being, I am a loner.
Just have to be patient.
But I’ve got Déjà vu!
You did a wrong thing right.
Here’s the sad part.
When you send me a good night’s sleep
I receive a good night’s sleep
And wake up
Making wits
Jotting down cyclical thoughts
Riding a bicycle that was never lost.
Here’s the part, the plain reside
in my mind and my heart.
Listen. Maybe the doctor between the lines
Is blue blooded.
Maybe human for spirit is what’s longing
Inside us too.
I think I got that Sensitive to help me
Lift my feet.
Listen. To music, even books that soothe the soul
Are incomplete.
Only play doctor and I’ll approve.
Only there I meet you.
A hero once said to me,
Learning is vulnerability.
I think I got that Sensitive
Nothing is stupid, that is lost on me.
No questions aren’t asked enough.
I rather turn to people who are busy.
Busy with vulnerability.
Like The hollow husks of heroes
A hero
Only a fleeing hollow reed.
Bust the myth here.
Talk to Theresa’s mother, dear.
Because
On the safe and rumbled bed
They just respond, unwittingly
Heroes just live by alarm.
Flying with a little hand on their chest,
To open it up from its numbness
Heroes are married to their heroes too.
Tossing and turning
What a journey for that powerful power person
Yes, you’re unlimited. So what do you want to do?
Play make believe,
Because the kids will get onto it too.
Feeding the famine of safety, feeding all others
Other than you
Somebody loves a cliché.
I got to that Sensitive everyday.
Empathy is Poetry 