i am not the stupid little things i do
(sometimes, i'm just stupid
while you remain you)
i am passion, and laughing,
at times distracted from enchantment
by the mildly wicked pull
of the moment
i love. it's true,
the sense of wildly inspired desire
is a ruse
melodramatics
amusement
a failure to thrive
a string of things
denying truth
and
life
making me
a cacophony
of something i am not
which is not
all
i've
got
(endlessness
in my pocket)
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