looking forward to a change - get off
the risperidone—lose about ten pounds
no constipation, desire we scoff
You are my object—He that astounds
feeling so high, can’t write anything
save thinking, mostly, of your shape
you’ll depose the infamous, foolish king
run ahead, my darling, to the ticker-tape
parade, you’ll find me willing and able
do the right thing; you know, a little
(so excited I can hardly be stable)
about magic dragons and their fiddle
look out, camel-toe, your love above all,
you’re skin is so clear - a perfect match
for my spots, which make us a doll
like a leopard that, at once, we catch,
our eyes giving way to the focus we feel,
that, i think, is our strategy, shifting
in and out of the reality we conceal,
open to something more than a fling
this great error, hey, is what i mention,
that i think of you when there’s math to do,
back off a little, this is my decision;
feel the weight of the dragon we screw
fire-breathing breathalyzer, be thankful
for us: night-time soap opera stalker
your greatness, dear, lives in your skull,
your bellwether eyes are what i prefer
(the parts of they-them that I cannot see)
well, it worked for a while, led me to this,
but I’m at a point, child, dedicated to me,
so i blow, for you, a permanent kiss
i love you so much it does me no good,
turn down the volume, i’ll be around,
i love, don’t I, the love I consume?
think a little of something profound,
hear the gee and the haw of His donkey,
pray tell, going, to His scarlet letter,
can’t you tell, to whom, I direct my plea?
I can be, for you, a red Irish setter,
making my way, against all odds, to my
home, a moveable feast, a palindrome,
I’ll be dead soon, Horatio, how can i lie?
I’m meant, i think, to wander and roam