I summoned you so hard
So in earnest
Sent out all my Super-she energy
With such sheer-will
With mountainous hope
Which always worked so well for me
But found only my own enlightenment
It can only be the powers that be
Felt fit to see
You find yourself
Crawling
And not
Mountain climbing
Sandy-haired, please find yourself
For some purpose, a scheme most grand
He, needing your needles now, whispers your alias
Loving only his broken-record voice
Revolutions — he cannot keep count anymore
I, with clean heart and tear-stained kitchen floors, no longer live to hear
My blessed middle name upon an Imposter’s lips
You and I, givers
Pawns in a taker’s desperate game
May you win with me
Say something here and now to my writer’s eyes and heart. Tell me something mystical or bizarre about yourself. Share anything that will be cathartic for you, or will blow my mind. Enlighten me.
Post your own most favorite photo or other personal work of art.
Write a short story here, and I’ll collaborate and finish it with you.
Or, finish mine:
“Oh, how entirely good it is to be this aged age, having had all the conversations with all the different girls and women who I have been throughout these years! I know who I am, I know what I want, and I know what I am unwilling to do to achieve it. The beautiful mystery that remains is this: What magic-like means are out there in the world that I may take in order to manifest what I want?”
LisaRosier.com 