 wired wrong, gotta be strong most don't care, beyond the surface, aware.... "put you first", here, it is rare land of show and tell, not share as in mutual, energy exchange narcissistic, now normalized and "sensitive sanity", deranged it's excuse and blame and game after game invited all, the party but nobody came... because it was, the kind, based in soul as in honest conversation, no costumes, no roles too late, the "wake up" like the model, photographed without any make-up funny, our vision and blindness, the same a "child of the wild", that could never be tamed... to realize, to learn how success is obtained "mask on, sealed tight" with a smile, ever ready everything here, a stage, for the fright... the one called the fight, oh, they love competition better, if beautiful you are, by definition... "camera ready", just hold it real steady take it, fake it angled and mangled the meaningful magic, keys to kingdoms, so dangled... cuz you're no one, 'til someone decides that you are then suddenly look!, you're a god damn star! made of paper or tinsel or plastic, who cares just as long as the machine grinds you whole, gets you there where, exactly? well, "the right side", tracks, lasting as long as they say you worthy and bankable 'til the sheen of your shine, it starts to wear off, and your light dims, burns dull "can't have that" but you did, once have me every star in the sky, it was you, i did see until you gave, as in gave up, on me taught me, real heartbreak is the fall of you, in your "finished with" me took me awhile, to grasp, yes, it happened my slow walk to death row in your eyes, heart, so fastened on to the next, buckled up, belt, your seat some sorrows, they linger past the end credits, complete finished films, final chapters "applause, applause" you smile pleased, from the rafters of the theatre in the mind, silent words they speak, yes, in volumes answer, my final worth... to you, to her, to him, just a whim of your will, in the moment a cheap rental, never worth real investment, called "own it" the truth, the bond, the believe, the deceive and we wonder why "never mind" is so easy to stockpile, and even easier, achieve survival of the fittest! at any, all cost just don't forget the "i love you", without effort, action, tossed off... it helps alleviate the pain, that is, if you feel it careful, next time, it could be you, someone steals it your "vulnerable", your "wonderful", that thing called a mind, inside that muscle, meat in your skull just like that cup, you know, "half empty, half full"... the shove out the door "felt it", more push, less the pull... still, in the silence dead of night, i remember all the hard work, not really it took for you, to dismember the beautiful that became, once, us just a little thing, called love, called trust guess it's more easy to find, than i thought some wisdom, through wounds it must be learned, it cannot be taught so go forth, good man, soldier and try not to cry, once exhaustion hits, older you are and you feel in a lifelong quest to retain a heart beat and heal just maybe, one day he'll come back and he'll stay but never, now, will you be, quite the same as you walk forward without him he's here to stay, deep within you loved...remarkably beyond you...your pride, your doubt.. with him, your soul, lost and found.. either way. bowen hart roselli 14 november 2020 ringwald love
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 ripped myself, deep and wide, apart like a masterpiece, your work of art did it because there is only one you here, us, the film titled, "seductively screwed" because you either know and love it, or you don't double feels, double minds your will's say you won't but then they switch and "fuck it", you'll lay claim and stake it the depth of my love the kind deep, true, yes, you'll take it while too many play, as in fake it, forsake it I'm always there, all your "you" yes, I'll take it the good, the bad the happy, the sad the mixed up mangle maul that is your head all the endearingly sweet anything's i remember every syllable you've said because it's you, not like any, ever other you're one part brother, and one part lover you're two parts angel and two more devil all your mixed message madness destroyed the playing field the rule book burned, leveled at the sky, the stars that you own man of a lifetime, fascination now my heart, head your home free to partake and pillage, at will some forces are the things of which all the words and "wander aways" cannot kill don't know why it's you, it just is didn't see your face when i made my last wish didn't know you'd appear and reign down like a storm shatter every illusion, every concept of norms norms as in normal you are not, in the least now here i sit, as if trapped by a fate that you sealed, done, complete couldn't escape you run away, if i tried the most beautiful man i never planned to lay down and die for and with and bleed, such a need to consume every bite of the soul sustenance you feed is this real or am i insane? you'll forever plead the fifth and devilishly smile as i crawl search for the truth, all attempts, found in vain twisted me, all the pleasure marked pain the kind, me so honored to take on all, as in any, your strain the kind that only you can heal cuz you're the only one thoroughly i am soaked in, can feel in a way that makes me, literally crazy for you crazy because you know crazy, cuckoo well too never felt so safe and surrounded by understanding but surprise!, came unmasked the side of you, silent avoidant reprimanding keep me at bay, arms length, your discretion always leaving we filled with unknowing, wonder, and questions you said you knew and loved it my obsession didn't know that included in exchange, my repression ability to grow with you in whatever form, "our thing" like a bird with a song trapped inside, unable to sing this can be whatever you want light and dark just tell me which space you want me occupied, parked cuz yeah, you got me no matter, "the what" raw, real and remarkably without hesitance or front that's not something i feel anyone but you don't lie to me, tell me you don't feel it, know it's true can't separate the sky from it's entwined color blue just like you can't take away the part of me that's devoted to you mind, body, soul and hole for you, I'd pay any price, any toll already signed the papers, dotted line, sold my soul and i did it willingly, compellingly happily, for you to own not in "psycho bitch bad" I'll admit, a bit fucked up, our situation, us, a tad but it is what it is and I'm on board, just admit that you like it, you feel it somewhere inside that "many mask" mind and heart my love for you, made of stars and pure truth, like fire, in forever it's the shit. bowen hart roselli 28 october 2020 ringwald love  simultaneously i am a heart occupying a body inside bone underneath skin i have a pair of eyes that convey the within one's that simultaneously express truth and lies with and amongst, the best of them i have lips that speak from said heart, that beats and private parts involved in dark/light things secrets known to strangers within the realm of "lost time" sheets i have fingers that write express, it seems, what many, you, cannot and a mind well haunted by experiences, faces framed in fractures that time forgot i have a soul filled with holes leaking the light and the darkness, so sold a universe inside of stars, many faces hung, heaven, hopeful so many, here gone but how they've left such indelible, undefinable traces... i have an energy, an aura just like you some of us scarred though with an insanity called "see right through".. that is, of course, if i am seen, at all i am acutely aware, the fate of which i seem so destined to fall.. it's the last invisible for which separation from it not remotely divisible from the equation that equates what i am sum total here, a freak and even less so, a man It's the chord, the calling of love, swelled, inside the few fallen faces of a beautiful, felt magical and so, "spell" compelled, as if by gods, to abide inescapable born, a black/blue bruise called "quite rapeable" that i was, and that i am disavowed, the one with pure intention, outreaching hands hands attached to limbs, lived for silent soaked walking in equal to all the time spent emotive, heart/sleeve intense, talking all said measurements sized and summed up, with this i am little, to less than nothing here, in your memory placed, bliss verging of unnecessary i occupy a space, temporary the one where loved and adored comes and goes the one where the split screen inside bleeds and flows back and forth like the wind through the trees my only stabilization is a place well worn called down on my knees for praise and devotion a worshipful ocean a state, it seems, comes so easy, for you the state called connection to other forces, faces, bodies so many interests, so many friends collected, hobbies yet for me that couldn't be further from the truth as evidenced in the reality i remember, remarkably well human traveler, a mystery, you yet i know, am aware the same does not go for me simultaneously in you strangers, we are came upon, lived and died and how, weathered storms yes, i gave my all and more, as in tried to little/no evidentiary avail, the ship sails simultaneously one heart wins, as another one fails beyond the scope of reason and pale simultaneously in shadows we hide and hope for some sense of sacred an intimacy, life expectancy beyond expiration beyond the vain and the vacancy prevail. bowen hart roselli 27 october 2020 ringwald love  nobody's lover,
nobody's god nobody's wake up in the morning, kiss sought nobody's angel nobody's light nobody's desirous, of me hold them tight nobody's last thought before drifting into dreams nobody's "most wanted" pin up guy, poster boy to take to heights of heaven unforeseen... all the things I've died, felt for others over ten lifetimes of "fallen knees", lovers to be ones' self here and be it, true dangerous, "destroy me then", apparently the lesson, time and karma have proved who knows why, who knows when in private, deep down we all pay prices, well practiced our sins and not some kind, based religion, or "righteous" just all the little things accumulated, amassed over lost days and lifetimes tiny, shitty selfish gains and subtle "shouldn't do to them" shames but "fuck it", right? no evidence it matters those twice used and "couldn't resist", left here shattered their fault, my fault, your fault, ours to each his own compass navigation system, how to get, reach for stars and those "didn't make it" well that's then, on them we, "the people", problematic pawns to each other's self gaining whims but screw me for "speak to me" of that light, mysterious, within that ray, so gentle, clean, razor thin that somehow ignites, beat of heart love begin... it exists here, in "yes" and with a little more vulnerability than we'd like to confess just as some of experience some exchange, souls, like sex when felt, fires flourish a real communion with another whether or not, clothes undressed problem is, it's acutely quite rare too many liars and loveless, aware too many takers, for the "uplift" themselves to many "sold offs", like cheap stocks brokered, hell "this for that", your tits, my tat my "welcome", your mat "let's be honest", what's that? so what's all this hiding, all this masking here, about? i can't tell you, I'm not yours you my "with" wish, without basis of fact. louder than words, your now caught, as in "act" actions severely more filled with a lack of anything remotely, real caring deck stacked... against me my blindness engulfed in the memory the "so touched" by your kindness kindness that vanished faded away, slow, the drip yet all i could see you, "the believed" with the most beautiful lips... ones i dreamed, be "the end all", your kiss but instead all i felt, was your deceptive doublespeak fist courage, it takes to be nobody's, and know it even more so, to live with it walk alone here, and own it nobody can help me out of my, "yours" abyss so with that, may i leave you, like you fooled me, with this... i may be "nobody's" and most, no "belong" now, found, you... but at least i am capable of knowing, what is lasting called truth something, you, so "everybody's" wanted has never had the strength to, of yourself, be confronted so please, play your game, as you've mastered it well but careful, the day it catches up with you, time will tell. and all the "played" that you cast out, fell, your spell somewhere inside, may it eat you alive all your lies, where they dwell... i know what i speak because mine caught up with me as well the day that i met you and didn't realize, the process of my undoing, fate the slow, aching "for you" i fell. and with that, you, the mirror, of all the lies of a lifetime I've been telling myself. we, the only two, in those rooms all those months, together but truly, it was just me, it seems my heart, my affection and nobody else. bowen hart roselli 23 october 2020 ringwald love  some strange ability to put you before me apparently this isn't any kind of life you are supposed to lead we become the beasts we feed break the soil, plant the seed believing you, so important to me i lived what i felt, overcome and now i see the damage is me not you, your fault we are all bound and tied to our destinies', called or, can we change our innate dna? that thing deep inside us that somehow lights the path we have paved motion and energy function and synergy so many strangely boring devoid of anything like the mesmerizing, mystery that demands inner insight most prefer just to fuck and fight and it's only each projecting what's behind our hello's and "have a good night's"... i've no idea the prosper propulsion but I've seen the look, eyes, utter disgust and revulsion so much so that i can barely live with myself "aah, it's no wonder, I'm not one of great wealth"... it takes a lot, of talent, "win the game" and too many "fall aparts" have left be, in afterwards never quite again, the same so what I'm good at unseen, unacknowledged mostly, just a survival technique unaware if i have any real power, mystique... that would be up to you to so feel me, I'm the one born to so worship and kneel at the alter of things, "seem so easy" for most, but guess not me a train wreck is as an afterthought sees... but my god (guess i have one?) the love i lived as my grand gift, undone just an emotionally intense, by product, bent in every way, shape, form for you because my heart, fallen, for you the one. who was, yet, then wasn't or were you? just as lost here, far from it... the place, the space can we please be ourselves? some of us, starting gate "just not that simple", so it's just a little setback, called hell but who am i not to wish you well so stuffed here inside with all the secrets, laid upon me can't tell.. or, yes i could but do be barely loved i then question my "should" and so i walk, a prisoner of me you, this life sweet illusion the lies, they are so much easier to believe bowen hart roselli 22 october 2020 ringwald love  ....to see such beauty, to feel such love... does it matter, make a difference? i have no idea, but at least i know myself enough.... to feel and breathe, gush, bleed like heaven amounts of things most don't seem much concerned with at least not in realms beyond the frustrating "norms" of "my little world only" how we fall in line and conform to perfect little minions by millions pat backs, like champs of the hearts, we so steal them little trophies, collected, in mind we are capable of magic but we destroy it so casually so carelessly, to find we, ourselves, alone, deep inside comforted by all the lies of love we abide the ones that say it doesn't really matter, what we did just "live in the moment" deluding true self, as we move on ever faster, who to kid and con with our games the ones about deflection, avoidance and blame "it's you, not me and me not you" unable to conquer the cruelty, untamed the kind that permeates every sector, every floor every hallway of our "human" rarely accessed, we, such self aggrandizing, self promoting peddling whores of "hollywood talk", the infinite stalk like little creepers, crawling pretending to walk taller, prouder than really, we are its the maul of the heart and the murder of stars for profit, for power for the draining, depletion of meaningful hours time spent communing with voice attached to soul what good are we now if not entrenched in our roles distant, detached. what came first, the key or the latch? the plan or the hatch? the dick or the snatch? the caught or the catch? you tell me man of lies and woman of disguise behind easy lyrics, as epitaphs we hide share to the world, the one, most, truly not listening as we diminish, in daily each other, our importance, our glistening value and treasure replacing connections like coats, jackets, all weather "take one off, put one on".. land of little lasting, if at all, very long... what's another body before us, so trampled what's another heart for the easy play, sampled.. eaten and swallowed, with barely a mind present just maybe my hell, or yours for some, heaven... the slaughter, the succulent murder of stars still, your face unforgettable work of art, left in shards... my mind, my memories of you, held and cradled as some kind of magic that befell me once, labeled as heaven on earth by "someone like me" now the murder of stars by you i can't believe. you did, but you did. and "the why" is that which now haunts me, perceived.. as in part, your pathology man of "universe", astrology man of so many, bleeding, beautiful things left in me to sort through walk amongst the aftermath the loss of you, the drowning sadness that brings like the murder of stars you committed for a reason and i hope one day you realize the hurt and the haunt yes, it stings. in a way never expected because it came from you those eyes, how they shined of something truly remarkable moving, not murderous, beyond belief. bowen hart roselli 22 october 2020 ringwald love  I've been walking alone,
on my own with the presence of angels cassette player speakers, then headphones since the beginning walking forever in search some safe place, a home the songs, voices as company as the only ever-present friends, faraway I've ever and only always had, could depend human love confusing. unreliable. undeniably hurtful. wounding. self-deluding differences. always wanting to make a difference as a result of me how i hate what i see in/of the mirror and surroundings, planet earth packed with so many, too many subtly, scathingly selfishly awful, "but that's just normal" society of people. not the animals' fault not nature's fault. now... i think, i feel I'd really just like to walk away and forward to nowhere, not back I'd like to walk to the end of the earth never stop walking lose all sense of my body, of time of worry, who is the next to attack.. me, you, each other our minds, our limbs, our belongings our beings the onslaught everywhere everyone wants something or even worse, nothing at all you figure this out, when no one but destiny calls in the form of a blind man. irony, he sees, intuits more than most yet he's blind to himself sorrowfully lost he, a reflection of me rejects all the beautiful within him, i see his choice, his fight his "one day here, then gone" lived plight "you cannot be, what you cannot see" no wonder, i am no one child of split straying spectrums schizo illuminate displays of light so i would like to walk, keep walking no more giving, love expressing talking, trying, chasing, wishing just walk past, in, amongst the trees until i am drained, depleted and drop thoroughly emptied of every last fear, hope, regret remembrance all the displacements, damaged drownings within that make the chaos, seek calm all the torment in palm of the hand, held, that's me and i envision lying lifeless starved and storied some little pocket of dirt, earth somewhere i am staring up at the true gorgeous glory a group of towering, tall majestically magical, silent stand trees and here there is nothing left to want nothing left to try to search for, long for bleed for, pray for i fall, i wait for my last breath last heartbeat, a whimper, a jolt a tear i am no one, nothing but humbled as i leave here (was i ever really here?) and dissolve, disintegrate back into the earth i would like to be one of those incredible trees and watch over you be finally, the perfect kiss something magical that "something" you could touch, embrace and need no ego no pain no guilt, complex no past remembrance, love slain no failure no fall apart anymore i have walked til i dropped and do not care what you or anyone thinks anymore i arrived at the place i was meant, all along naked and nourished by the natural I'm at end and i await, in the envelopment of the earth, the universe on the other side, silently for my real life, to begin....... bowen hart roselli 19 october 2020 ringwald love  branded at birth whistled at one tried at two throttled at three fondled at four fucked at five soaked at six starred at seven ate at eight nibbled at nine turned out at ten felt like life was already over by then... i guess not being into it, but looked at like gold this is how the toys feel, when sold doubled digit meant I was too old so, sent to the corner, pimped and primed, "do as your told" bought and sold, so many times is this what they meant, for whom the bell chimes? ass sagging by sixteen, done see, getting old, washed up, it's no fun another choice another day another trick, is this one bi, straight or gay? doesn't matter, as long as they pay and keep their psychotic tendencies at bay tired of beatings, without paying more no college degree for a prop-positioned whore future, please tell me, what's in store? does "DP" mean, they will love me more? I'm not sure, but of this, I implore this might sound glamorous, but it's work, and a bore another cock, another tit in my face it can't be a "fall" if there was never any grace can of mace and an extra pair of heels walking the streets, the cops are the weirdest, cop the most perverted of "feels" so says the one who prays and kneels before gods, so disgusted by the children "mested and musted" gotta go, i've been busted in the van, to "the can" but at least I'll get rest before the "get back out", again, work, my best.. impressed? I hope so... from one who don't know the meaning of "no" born to suck and fuck and blow go with every fondle and flow whoa. is me and away is you. as in gone now, ok I get it, I'm through...  "a love for you will be decided by the gods donnie" - scotty - dream sweet babe man of gentle and soulful - 1997 he spent his life enslaved to a vision embedded in his head, implanted in his heart by the gods of love and poetic, long before he even knew what being simultaneously saved and scarred by his poetic soul even meant. He dreamed of love. Deep love. Divine love. Real love. Human love. Love with and from a man whose inner war of dueling forces, light/dark, like a knife cutting a split down the center of his psyche mirrored his, someone who understood him, saw him, from the realm of the opposite. Opposite meaning, he, the man, the guy, to his bitch. The puppy kind, not the feminine two steps away from "cunt" kind. Thats all he was, that's just how his heart was wired. Give your all, give your everything, when the forces of fate found him in the presence of a man who kinetically, somehow magically moved him, held the key to open that labyrinth like doorway into the deepest center of his being. This, a cruel, not much thought given to anyone or anything, land. That's how the gentle, sensitively vulnerable hearts can be turned out to become someone like him. A bitch. This, a world that takes the good, twists it up, turns it around and makes it bad. Vulnerability = weakness, not what it really is, strength. Loyalty, Devotion = insanity, not nobility, in this disposable, "out for self" wasteland. Heart/Passion/Love = Psycho Freakishness, not heroic hues of a great/good human, let alone a man the skinless ability to admit, show, speak of flaws, fractures, fires within = forgotten, rejected, cast away, cast out. not the sign of someone honest, deep, able and capable of truly accepting, loving another as they are in all their fullness and foibles, wounds and maladies that mark, scar all of the truly awake and alive here. God forbid any of us are truly loved beyond the masks, the parts we project, like thick skin, to protect ourselves in a dangerous world of the ever raping beauty of real living by all the fake, the polite, the fraudulent, forced in our quest of self, to survive here. This, how a well meaning, hearts in his eyes, ever romantically impassioned empathic giver, not full of huff, puff and hubris, arrogance, confidence, became what he was, somehow learned to surrender to it, a bitch. a doormat. that made him sad. loving, devoted puppy, yes. doormat, the unfortunate side effect by a world, men who pulled him in but couldn't understand him, as if compelled to see his best as his worst. It wore him down over time. "At least being used, taken advantage of is having something done with, something wanted from me," he thought. One thing he was not, a victim. He despised that word, and took full ownership of who he was, the fact it seemed, no matter how much he gave or how hard he tried, his beautiful was reduced to bitch in the eyes of his drawn to men in time. As if they couldn't resist, to the point he learned, maybe, he too, really wanted this, needed this. This bent we can become, from the repetition of bruises over time. But yes, of course, deep down he still wished, wanted to be loved, to belong to one man in the most soulful, deeply bonded, maybe a bit crazy, but lovingly way possible. Problem was, he was now 48. When he turned 40, his best friend, a straight man, called and said, "Happy 40th, 80 in gay years"... He loved it, that his beloved friend new him, the evil truth of the gay culture, world, so well, so brutally, from being around him for so long. So if 40 was 80....what was 48, basically 50?.... He guessed there was no number, it didn't matter anymore. He was simply now, the portrait of an aged out bitch. Yet he refused to give up, completely give in, let the many, but few, before "him's" win. "Fight the good fight, misunderstood forever, aged out bitch or passionately giving, when so touchingly inspired, love fool or not" He thought...and prayed and lived to carry on, carry forward another day. He knew how ugly, how heartless this world was, could be, hiding behind all the status, the materialism, the ego centric labels, definitions, the lies, the excuses, covering up so many casual, numb abuses. He would find his true love, bent, warped, a bit lovingly twisted or not. "If not here, then in the next life", he comforted himself. He knew, could feel it, he was out there. Some are just more lucky than others, and often, sadly, take it for granted. He knew and had lived with this truth all too well. And who knows, maybe he had already met, found his true love, stumbled upon him somewhere, but both too blind, too bruised, too belligerently stuck in old patterns, old grooves, old fears, old wounds, to recognize "the one" in each other. Land of too many bodies, easy sex, shallow faces, strangers as "someone's", now so quickly, anxiously attached to the phrase "my person".. He hated that stupid phrase and it's variant uses. "i found my person, you are my person". Another trend, another soon to become forgotten, shallow end, gone the way of the verbal pet rock. "Where do these stupid trends start, and who starts them, to spread like sheep fed wildfire", he wondered. "They sure as fuck don't start with you", he scolded himself. When the oddball becomes the outsider, becomes the rebel, becomes misunderstood, becomes the maimed, becomes the maddened, becomes the lonely man, becomes himself. becomes the seeker, becomes the sought... That's the part he forgot. To be a seeker is to let yourself, in turn, be sought. aged out bitch boy or not. To live to give, as in to experience the unadulterated joy, love and art of giving beyond ones "self" just for the transcendent state of that incredibly beautiful, "heaven like" feeling of wanting, hoping to raise another up, show them they are truly seen, heard, felt and loved here. Listened to. Valued. Cherished. Adored. To know in a heartbeat you can make someone's day, bring a burst of sweet sun amongst all the heart numbingly mundane, that's what he, with all his flaws and damage deluxe, lived for, knew what truly mattered, because it seemed to matter so little to most. Except for maybe at Christmas. Even that had become overly saturated with materialism and forced feeling, "going through the motions" garbage. "Think about it donnie, how many people go every day of their lives without anyone saying anything kind, doing anything kind for them" his goddess christy said, hauntingly, long ago. Such beautiful truth, words to want to live as a better, more caring human by. Truth of beautiful to match her paradoxical brutal.... "People don't care, they just dump their shit on you and leave." The beautiful and the brutal sides of the goddess spoken truth. Words to soak in and live by. To both be and not be. Kind of like the love he searched for, rare, with another "he". Love with an edge. Loving but not too easy, real affection with some good hearted abuse. Like a hug and then a "fuck off" for awhile or a deep loving kiss and then a good hard fuck, a grab by the neck and a slap, make it red, on the ass. Love is complicated. Anything real here with soul and depth of mind is. It's work and effort and allegiance and unwavering. Through all the storms and hurts, misunderstandings, magic, coming together and and giving space, respect, without coming apart. True love anything is like the deep fuck his hole, attached to his soul sought. "Making love is like naked tenderness, a hand grabbing your cheek, pulling you in, close, closer, closest as possible, lips joining, tasting, biting delicately, then exploding into the taste, the drench, divine of the tongue. Then a penetration so deep it pierces your walls, it fills you with the mind, the essence, the being of them. Making love is a tender, sweet, almost animalistic, lust for the soul, the divine and the dirty of each other, slow to build then on fire, thrust fuck." Sensual, intentional, purposeful, lasting. Something you can't get with a stranger or a glorified one, all those relationships more of shallow air than a deep, intense long stare. Portrait of an aged out bitch boy. A heaven of a lot, live to give. A hell of a lot of mistakes, lessons learned, lived. And so what if he wants to lick, worship the feet of the man he loves. Its the feet that haunt him the most, for some reason. That and the lips and the mesmerizingly soulful, soaked in silent, "so much inside" eyes. This is what haunts him, stirs him to sweat, the middle, darkness, of night. "If only he could see me, what inside i hold, hide, he the one out there, hiding all of his treasure, too, deep inside".. We've all got our twists, we've all got our ties. We've all got our secrets, we've all got our lies. Mostly the ones we tell ourselves, spilled onto others. Portrait of an aged out bitch boy. He was really a lover, but the world couldn't accept, understand him. The effect, another exceptionally rare masculine magic man, utterly just himself too, could have on him. So he adapted, but never adopted, the ability to play the game as anything but himself. And that's why and how, he sits, dreams, feels, still believes... and aged out now, walks alone. this time...with hope. as he feels, somehow, he is walking with someone, not yet here, but not, in heart, so alone. be it this life or the next, that man, that guy able to see, handle, embrace and accept, truly value, love him yes, he will, one day come home. bowen hart roselli 23 september 2020 ringwald love  so, sweetly kinda psycho on the good side, for you what was i supposed to be, do? hit me like a flood, unexpected cuz you're god damn divinity, detected no one else, as in ever, like you all your weird ass wonderful yeah, through all the bullshit, shined through your chill, your changes your sweet fuck deranges your troubles, your concerns stole my heart and made it burn all the stuff, you, so into so much knowledge, so beautiful, the view your electric eyes, so alive, so true sometimes sulky, sometimes sad often full of kindness, etched underneath, sweet rebel boy, bad bad in a way, so fucking good a recipe to make my fellow inner psycho swoon as it should... we were a team, together, yin, yang loved listening to your shit stories of the latest crazy chic that you banged i believed in you like no any, other so what if i dreamed i coulda been you're preferred psycho partner in crime, lover just a bent way of saying i love you like no ever, other cried a shit ton a buckets when you left, crazy brother cuz i hadn't felt so fucking happier, It's true than just getting to be, around, on the daily you, a real part of your life, so fuck you for taking off and going like cutting me in half and blowing outta here, off, and away, you did go and along with ya, you took a piece of my heart, my soul i don't want it back i just want you around, as in always cuz no one motherfucker holds a candle or compares to you so any other derick would just be some false flag, generic so don't gimme that shit "wouldn't have to change the shirt" I'm well aware, sometimes you're a jerk but that works for me, cuz all i care, just be you just know i can all take your blows that's my job, as the real thing whatever ya wanna call me cuz i know, can feel, holy help us.. in your own psycho way you kinda, sorta, bent, like/love me too doesn't mean anything defined, more than the words mean, matter to you I'm good with watcha got, as long as whatever it is, just feels right, rings as true and that's ok, cuz nobody cares it was just us, all those months you, poor bastard, driving us to god knows, "what now", where and all those people, they're now gone but who's fought to stick around, for you, the haul, long yeah, that's me cuz i know what i see the coolest, craziest, magic man around so just embrace it, and face it the fellow, good psycho bent love ya found... so I'll calm down or I'll pep up ya got the good shit with me cuz I'll do, and be, whatever you need, want not cuz I'm some phony ass fake cuz what ya don't seem to understand "the effect" is cuz there was a real give and take we just worked, and fit no forced, no feigned shit you struck me, didn't fuck me but who needs, that cuz ya still entered, plucked me of all my garbage, all my blind its rare, and ya know it two psycho's like us american, and meeting, through fate our own, one of a motherfucking "no one else like us", strange, sweet, beautifully removed kind. bowen hart roselli 23 september 2020 ringwald love |
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