I walk a path fused to my muse like
I am a pen while she is my ink.
If I was to actually think about it,
She exists as the apostrophe
to my living conjunction.
Her function is the,
college ruled blue lines in my life’s notebook
that ruptures my sloppy handwriting habit.
Fathom our days linked together
filling the pages of every novel
ever deemed as a top ten best seller.
Plus, we are every story ever told,
timesed by the strength of every canine to ever participate
in the Iditarod, Alaskan tundra, sled race.
We dwarf emotional monstrosities
with the infinity of life’s possibilities.
Man, we hold the GLEE KEY.
But ravenous patterns of tattered love and back-stabbing
Play the evilest game of backgammon,
back and forth,
over ourselves as the board.
Jealousy can’t help but rain like,
on my open wound days.
Leading insecurity clouds to conniving confuse my
weatherman’s weekly forecast by
foiling his scientific prediction of bliss filled beach weather.
not all together.
We rose above those friendship barriers,
which are to carry us over life’s canopy.
Because all it is, is a rainforest mixed with
vicious vertebrates as well as
beauty as far as the eye can see,
past the normality of 20/20.
Always dodging the tree killing greed stampede by
feeding each other sweat nothings like,
chip-wich insignificances whispered over any and all indifferences.
Our understanding of each other stretches over continents of confidence,
and my regrets are the earthquakes of nonsense that awake dormant obstacle dragons from their
hatchet buried caverns.
But NOW is time to
and reset our preset teeter-tottering
No one has ever tasted sweeter.
No one has ever contrasted my demeanor
to this point of compliment.
She is the feather-laden-stick quickly restricting the cobwebs
from inhabiting my every dark corner.
I am confident
that my muse has Atreued
the never-ending nothingness rusting this
cranium collecting dust.