Poetry


Fuzzy licks of hope tickle at my whims.

Yearning for assuring trust seems to numb the grim.

But “Will you? Won’t you? Will you? Won’t you’s”

allow a fate of tries.

Going up and down may get me,

only 2D rides.

So forget all jumbled lefts,

so scribbles will be right,

and take the time to entertain

the wrongs, which come at night.

Dream of your forbiddens

and take the time to try

all the things which inhibitions

teach us all to hide.