I, ate.aye my love. I sit, lay, upside down and up to no good. A beer to spare, shoe laces waxed. Hair is fair, attitudes are lax. I lay, I lie.
Bitten about the back, shins and ankles and knees and wrists. Hands hold what they’do’not’see.
My time is spent. Mostly little thoughts. The height of “I” the cross section double storey “L and T”. E is the subject. What is little? I is. But not capitalised. The transition, Capitalised yourself. Define- create- be sure. No nick-names. Only bIg. A growth. Three syllables for the word. More and more.
You buy me things, I fear giving you my time and honest company. I put a red onion in your bed, by your books, on top on your laptop. This is my layered look, vegetable layers, natural form in its most nourishing form- no tears. This honesty built of trust and respect. This- that wasn’t really mine, for long enough, is yours. I have given you my oddly, an almost shaped heart.