Show your way to me
And I’ll squeeze you
Teach you
To be free
You’ll be confined to the infinite wonder we share
Bound by the limits of our biological needs
The weeds
Ensnaring our aging skins in wonder of What is right? What do I need, really?

Sister,
Screech your screed
You woo-woo girl
Screech your screed
Spit your poetry
Spit it
Spit it babe
You’re a babe
A ripe fruit barely there but by a thread
So insidious to all my prayers
My value statements composed in the analyst’s chair
Under the consultant’s glare
Their behest
I guess

I guess
Anyone’s guess, my guest
My quest to remove you from the crest of this earth and float you to the infinite
Subsume with you
Subsume
In this lonely, oily room
Too soon

Too soon for the truth of what this late night decision may mean