lover in a loony bin
leave me there
and come back when

i am cured of all my shit
made "stepford wife" for a new begin

perfectly posed
and propped up, for pleasure
alive to be your goldmine, treasure
not pooped out, you,
from the onslaught of me
all the overwhelm
my infinite emotions, they bring..

exhaust to your pipes,
your stars and your stripes
that wave so proudly,
like in the air, shines your flag
shot down by the drag that is me,
gushing fag

flooding,
with all my pent up emotions
elusive, are the wanted
not lap dog bitches filled, devotion

puppies are cute, but get old,
really quick
no wonder i never found
any good, strong "stick around" dick

never learned my lessons
so i walk around all bruised and used
second guessin'
every word and thought i expressed
while the lucky
are busy gettin' down, undressed

fucking and sucking
on tit, pussy, cock, ass
while all i get is over,
as in looked,
"uh, no thanks, I'll pass"..

huh?
jesus christ,
doesn't anyone want
any real love anymore?

better yet,
its coming from someone
gutter minded, well trained,
a turned out, filthy whore

i can be that, and so much,
all the more
but all i seem to get,
is the perpetual wave,
as in goodbye, out the door

so gotta change it up,
gotta pill it, pop it
whatever it takes, to finally see
enough's enough

cuz eight sure wasn't
as in ate the dust, as in angel,
he ain't bluffin'

eight is enough,
for some, sure, that's true
but eight ain't the right age
to think you learned
how to bend, to be even better
as the neighborhood, backyard
blue boy, slam him, screw

as my guardian, think angel,
looked, ran, bolted,
"outta there", in shame

lover in a loony bin
look at me, mirror,
i have someone else to be,
but no else not blame...

gotta get rid of that,
that thing, in the chest
no matter, the majority
i make, my mistake
the ever all mighty fucking priority
tame it, tamp it, down, let it go
or else i will, yes, forever
be the un-fucked, un-kissed,
unloved minority

of weirdos who think
being open, raw, ever devoted, is good
might as well carve out,
a pathway to hell
on a piece of tossed out, rotted wood

kinda like my belief system, ingrained
it ain't doing shit to get me done
while all the others,
are all out, having fun

tasting each other,
tongues, lips, locked, entwined
as i sit here, alone in the dark
a sixteen, forty-eight year old
hoping and praying,
some sweet bad boy "be mine"

it's get on out there
and play it, the game
even if, left empty inside afterward
that's just what you get,
for "the get", for "the gain"

cuz lessons they hurt,
but damn, the pleasure in the pain...

lover in a loony bin
time to leave there now and live,
a more attractive, cock worthy catch,
but underneath hiding,
a devoted, bitch for love, fool
different name, beating heart,
trapped inside, just the same....



bowen hart roselli
23 september 2020
ringwald love

maybe you like it
maybe you don't
maybe you will
maybe you won't

maybe it's me
maybe it's you
maybe it's false
maybe it's true

maybe we live
maybe we die
maybe we tell the truth
maybe we lie

maybe we fuck
maybe we hug
maybe we sweep it all...
under the rug

cuz maybe...
it's all just a little too much
of everything and nothing
"this n that, such n such"...

useless shit, heaven (don't) help us,
all around...
instead of focusing on each other
endless feeds, information, we drown

as more and more, days, years, fly by
keep shoveling shit down
overloaded, exhausted
depleted of depth,
we no longer even try...

to pretend it matters
the pretend, all around..
maybe it doesn't
that in the shallow we drown..

just don't invite me
to a god damn "cuddle party"
there is nothing in that "touchy feely"
garbage, even worth a "maybe"
thought starting..

I'd rather take a punch, in my ass
cuz that's real..
cuddle with a stranger?
no thanks, fake affection
is worse than real aggression,
animalistic, the feel...

for maybe that has it's place
more than we realize
in a safe, constructive way
release the pent up rage
in our thighs..

release the stress, release the strain
maybe not pretending this place
"so great", eases shame

of having to "maybe" so much,
maybe now
we can get back to basics,
communicate clearly, to each other,
maybe, "wow!"..

how's that for a thought
some things, real treasures
cannot be bought

real friends, real lovers
real magic, real others..

maybe they wouldn't be so rare,
if aware
that the "here with you now"
isn't always going to be

it's a fucking gift
so maybe...

start there.


bowen hart roselli
4 september 2020
ringwald love

the interpretation of others
the integration of stimuli
absorbed through eyes and ears
the mind
the taste, the touch, the senses
fractured

it's all energy encapsulated
absorbed
investigated
or not

thought distillations
arousal intimations
verbal cues
the masculine voice
for me, like heroine
in heroic form,
my crawl across the earth
left no choice

power and control
given, him, the go to
for the spectrum, give in
alive, somehow, in the realm
third dimension

he seems unaware
doesn't care
or plain, simple doesn't mind
amongst his full, bright sky,
passage, pulsate of time

not on his radar
not inherent to the value
his attentive adrenaline, aligned

but it doesn't change a thing
within
what's happened, occurred
this selfless surrender,
process, begun, what's to come..

or it's opposing view, selfish
dependent upon the view,
looking out
perspective is as awareness
becomes

expanded, retracted
some seek two
others, bathed and basking only
in one

as the state to relate
what a real life means
for myself, it's an other
to rip me open, like rapture
the bleed, pure, emotion
the love, verged extinction

selfish/selfless

i live surrounded this
devouring distinction.

masculine.
his.

in a way not felt, envisioned
experienced.

his silence and avoidance.
somehow clean,
thus my continuance

but if more to the truth
still, the heaven of this
alive wished intent,

still known

and adored
it's inherent allowance

whatever the reason

i hope, more than anything, yes
more than me,
the sum total all i sense, strive
believe

he welcomes it
someway

this becoming,
beautifully bruised
blooming reality

i feel as though
i can finally breathe.

and no matter what he will,
would, could or couldn't ask
i would rise every occasion
for him, up to the danger
the task

unmasked.

i have been.

no shame, no fear
in the silent surround

this man,

the lights within are alive
gun cocked, locked, protective

realizations
upon my readied soul
skin

endangered to his
permission/forgiveness
didn't ask/sought

delicately devious
divine
bond/bled



bowen hart roselli
9 september 2020
ringwald love 

 "when nothing has changed
in your life"...

-school of seven bells - heart is strange

when everything has changed
but nothing has changed
different location
different faces
different job
different "no job"
different friends, different spends
different "you", different truths

different dates
different dare to be hopeful
sit and waits
different, but
the same "forced" strangers
same awkward conversations
(so many people hiding so much anger)

same new ends
without any want
any chance for any kind
of anything, begin....

off the "dating" app treadmill
off the anti-social on social media spell
surgically opening my psyche,
"cracked hell",
looking back, trace the facts
for where it was i went wrong
and fell...

apart
inner crumble
took the wrong turn
as "the right one of course",
so i tumbled..

downward, inward
"warped pup, batter up"
to hit my ball, far out, left field
the fucked up shit we do to ourselves
in some bizarre attempt
to work through our wounds and heal

guess what?
the darkness, a devouring effect
and no prism of light,
is beheld, while gorgeous, to be perfect

so, the search, an infusion
of human allowance, flawed
more nuance, less illusion
chaotic chords, inner wiring, a mess
"the shit that arouses me,
when i get undressed"....

or,
a pavlovian dog
when the right voice, right vibe
his song spoke, silent knowing, sung
then my bell well oiled, conditioned
well groomed, salivate heart, rung...

"no one wants a bitch like you,
giving all your power so easily",
best friend says,
stings, confuses me with (his?) truth..

"i guess I'm a bit twisted,
so rare is the chance, I'll be loved,
but i mean well, so there's gotta be someone that gets me,
my kinda devoted, kinda bent, but wholehearted impassioned love"....

right?

no idea.
but it doesn't look good.
all the errors, mistakes
all of my perpetually
"too much" mixed with misunderstood

as i count all my failures,
fuck ups, within
the list, damn, it's long
"...yet...if...only..i..could"....

change my life...

I'm the only one
who can change my life..

from the inside out,
my mixed up wiring
that misinterprets meanings
that feels so many god damned
poetic, intense feelings...

about shit no one cares
molly ringwald's "fresh horses" poster stare
book of love's, they never made it,
fifth record
tatum o'neal's problematic past,
childhood, chequered...

and all the wounds
and scars of others,
the true friends, not friends
but really lovers

and the men, few, I've fallen
that i make, treat like gods
I'm worshipful
to that rare connect feeling
as in, it's a gift, and i know it
to me profound, so fuck me
"floored, so moved, hit the roof,
through the ceiling"...

met hundreds of guys, in my life,
fucked a third
so when i tell you, it's rare
to feel love,
i honestly give you my word

i may be broken,
but my word is not
all the liars and the loveless
the bullshit they reap,
it cannot be forgot

problem is, i confuse
feeling a sense of love,
at times, for finding it, love
but believe me,
I've paid, twice that price
and so what if my dick gets hard
over being called names
some would say are not so nice...

to each his own
on the "go it alone"
the lucky ones, they find it
with another, that sense of
being so, together, "at home"..

so yes, i am trying
take a true, transforming look inside
but the laws of a good man,
i will always strive, no matter how
damaged i am, in my head,
soul, to abide

change the bullshit i perpetuate,
my end
and to the ones i love
who read this shit

thank you, your time,
heart, precious to me,

and real affection, your reflection
of beautiful,

i send.


bowen hart roselli
10 september 2020
ringwald love

 odd man, out.

feeling things
you cannot, won't
just maybe, things
you do, but don't

how would i know
'cuz you won't say
maybe we'll both
live and die this way

one of us living
in the love, blood, the giving
one of us dying,
for the dream, new beginning

could be both of us just
true, the same
too easily broken
feel the gift, see the game...

for what it is,
all the bludgeon of bliss
what i wouldn't give
to live inside the taste of your kiss

as you are the last,
the ultimate infinite,
somehow i know this
stuck waiting, the wake up
you will finally get on with it..

take what's yours,
that you already know
who cares, what the limbs look,
once you finally find
that place called home

keys to magic
locked door, madness
must we waste, like murder
the minutes
on any more anything
of our pasts, torn, tragic

i don't want things
i just want you
i finally get it
finally understand
what's true

its loving, living
before it's time
so please see me, feel me
I'm the "yours" in "mine"

to leave this awful, ugly place
made so by the so called
"human race"
another body, another face
as i fight, like fire
to show you no one
can take your place

odd man, out
is this all in my head?
or am i linked to you,
wordlessly, aware all the things
that have yet to be said

change is needed, absolutely
i feel it, breathe it, resolutely
trying, searching
the name of you

an odd man, out
for once in my life
fighting to believe in myself

because i
believe in you,

this, us
powerfully real
beyond the sky, beyond the stars

it's nothing more,
beautifully

than the simple,
but not plain

divine realm, heart

truth.


bowen hart roselli
19 september 2020
ringwald love

"i legit hate these fucking phones"
he said, and i thought,

"ya know, he's right.."

may he reawaken
the return to a flip phone revolution.

that's just how i see him,
capable of affecting, inspiring change,
he does it, in me, so he, quite capable,
but I'm not enough, or the one,
to get him to believe, understand, see..

he is magical, but he rejects it,
an inner aversion to the light,
the heart, that is me...

now back to the illumination,
"the taught" in his teach

keep shit simple.
we gotta reach back to go forward

or, for me,
death to the connection keeper,
my personal hell, it's mine
and may now, be the time
i let go, "it's all good and fine"

realize the limited spectrum
of my reality, its impossible
to know the real reality of others
unless they let you in,
effort and the want for action
it doesn't exist in email
or texts, like bites, without bullets
that enter, the center, to explode
and illuminate,
fill the center with light

that can only be found
within the connect, human voice
it's a choice
in a world this distracted
this consumed with so much available
and passing

by, before our eyes and minds
there is too much to process
and too little time

too many words on screens,
flying by
too many "dings and pings"
"who, what now's", flying blind

for me, my fault, my flaw, i admit
and to use his lingo, his word, "legit",
this is it

i live in a space, wide open,
little trace
of anyone i actually see,
on the regular, face to face

no family, a few friends
but either they don't leave the house,
like me, or they're forever straddled,
lives frazzled, by the weight of
too many god damn kids

or they have fuller lives
whoever they're fucking, or fallen for
family members,
more friends than me,
clamoring, knocking
on their front door

so as all i have to do
is go to work, come home
and be consumed, sit, write, dream
i get easily confused
by my life, "abnormal"
and i reach out too much,
try too hard, to keep connections
alive, that others don't have the energy,
the space, the same want, or the time
and so shit dries up slowly,
like the cum stain from a hand job
hidden on the prom queen's dress,
oh so formal

fuck email, fuck texts
fuck trying to hang on,
worry in this wasteland, world
if someone special will remember me
I'll cross their mind and they'll
wanna stick around, reach out
with a depth of meaning, heart
like the best

friends we made, once
"back in the day"
before technology took over
and devoured "the love" in "the lay"

bare ones' heart,
with a little more soul
seems now all we are
are avatars and self delusional roles

of who we want society to see
filtered to, ridiculous and "wrong"
as the days only get shorter,
with all the stimuli scattered,
focus shattered, there is little
defined here, as lasting, anything, long

so please forgive me for trying
as in all the ways
of technology, "too hard"
"too much", "too many",
texts, emails, length and volume
scope of emotion, my cards

laid on the table
but not picked up, with regard
to the want, you wanted it, from me
you, stretched and pulled
a hundred thousand directions
the face of my heaven,
but I'm not yours
the same, in reflection

no guilt, no blame
no "your faults", no shame

i see, feel you in my heart,
someone sacred
but i cannot make you see me
for you, in the same

so, death to the chaser
i never set out, thought I'd be
and all my own energy flooded
at you, so easy to pour out
thanks to the ease, the devil
we know, stroke, masturbate,
to madness, misunderstandings of meaning, "thanks technology"

i meant all, in good
but that's no reason,
no continued excuse
to not see, the "too much"
here, in me
i just want things to be
what you want, desire, flow
forth and back, naturally
see?

god, i miss the days
of flip phones, simplicity,
when if someone truly wanted you, you'd know
because, your phone
would just magically...

ring.

bowen hart roselli
26 september 2020
ringwald love

 
left turn,
hmmm...a bunch of frat boy style
jocks and too pretty, too plastic
girlfriends..living it up, partying hard
...the guys are cute, but they'll kill me, most definitely...and those kind of girls hate guys like me...

don't belong there.

right turn,

bunch of all black wearing, black lipstick, downward staring, upward glaring pseudo-freaks listening to the over-glorified, "the cure". A band worshiped by all their "ultra-cool and we're so different, we're too cool for you" kind, so therefore i kind of despised that band by association, while loving a handful of their songs, "let's go to bed" and "a forest"  my all time favorites, but their crowd of followers, fanatics

i definitely don't belong here, there or anywhere with them

walk straight ahead,
really wish i was dead...

"my people!"....all here..

it's a sunday sun soaked afternoon beer bust, barbeque at the local gay bar..

bunch of guys, age range 21 to already dead (over 40) huddled in groups, little packs based on clique, clothing and lack thereof...i get a soda (not much of a drinker) and sit down in the corner.

i'm...supposed...to...belong...here...but..

between all the "i hate women", "yeah, fuck them!" or "i just wanna do their hair" talk...and all the sleazy, cheesy cock talk, come-on's", make-fun-of smirks, glances and not one beautiful, brooding bad boy with a secretly sensitive heart in sight...i realize...

i don't belong here either...

so i leave.
head down, heart sunk.

it's me...

my problem, not theirs...

i don't belong anywhere.

head back home.
turns out I'm not alone...
the most feared of all groups gathered

family.

k.i.l.l. m.e.

psychotic father, tragic mother
sociopathic brother, hate seeping
older sisters, over embellishing, manipulative sister in age, just above me, and last but not least my doused in the devil grandmother with her dumber than shit cohort, husband, my grandfather....

and little old (aged out by twelve, in all ways imagined, trust me) faggot, sissy boy me...

i can't breathe.
suddenly, amongst them
i cease to exist, to feel at all like me...

suffocating..
between wanting to save my mother, being disgusted by the sight of my father, vacillating between loving and hating my sisters and hating myself more for always wanting their love and approval, despising my brother and his twisted glances, pure evil...and warding off my grandmother's ever judgemental, seething looks and stares...

i have to get the fuck out of here.

the origin of the place, "don't belong
anywhere", made brutally, soul scarringly aware...

and so i run, walk, crawl, fly
(at least in my forever in need of escape mind)....

it's now dark outside,
warm air, cool breeze, feels delicately
heavenly..

the street lights glow,
somehow comforting.

and then i see him.
standing against a seemingly
towering tree, smoking a cigarette,
having a rainier beer.

he is tall, about 6'2
the most beautiful, natural dark brown
hair that looks almost silk black
naturally pale perfectly imperfect skin
strong, wide, almost hairless hands
dark, kind eyes.
the kind that hide a lot of soul,
secrets, sensitivity inside.
lips, full, perfectly so, the kind a guy like him could never appreciate how lucky he was to have them...
understated, but somehow on him,
cute clothes.
jeans, white plaid shirt.
north face sweatshirt.
a regular looking, as in dressing, guy,
not the slightest bit regular,
the kind with rough, fragile, stars
glimmering, but not boasting, in his eyes...
his face, the most fascinating i realized i never knew i hadn't, but had just now, seen....
different from every angle, like a prism of light and dark mixed together,
like i finally knew the real presence of handsome, heart, mystery, magnitude.
it, embodied in him...

all.....right...there.

his body, natural, but honorable,
thin, but not, strong, but soft.

he started talking to me.
inherently soulful "somehow...something, an uncommon feeling"

and then i realized.
i felt it all around me,
as the moments turned to hours,
turned to days, weeks, months

time flying, like the universe, present,
admiring

soaked in my skin, my eyes, my heart,
the air, the sun, the rain, morning light, evening dawn, then stars out darkness..

it was him.

soaked in sweetness,
soaked in soul, soaked in sensual
soaked in secrets, soaked in sensitivity
soaked in strength.

soaked in him.
i soaked him in.

and.

i felt at home.
i felt safe.
i felt i belonged
there.
right there.

with him.

nothing, no one, else
had i ever truly felt that before.
and didn't think for a moment,

no matter all the left turns, right turns,
wrong turns, turn-aways, turn backs,
turn-arounds, turn forwards

i would.
and i did.

with him.

his name is Derick.

the end.


bowen hart roselli
16 september 2020
ringwald love 

everyone's a liar
everyone's a lover
in some way, shape, form
or another

we lie to ourselves
the worst, most of all
and take, along with us
hostages of heart,
those chosen, compelled
here, to fall

apart, like an art
our strained and pained,
preyed humanity
how to get to the tender of trust
when all here, defensive blows
so swift to strike,
war of ego and vanity

so much possible,
yet impossible the same,
i came, remarkably, to love you
not fill you with blame
and all the tragic, too often
"more of the same"

safe/unsafe
there is something inside
your dangerous reign
something unspeakable
i cannot reach, explain

yet i find myself
a captive
to the want to try
again and again

risking the ruin
the message, worn thin
i retreat, or at least try to
lick the wounds,
yet called back to you, when...

you seem to be the only one
i am speaking
from the depths, the inner soul
seeking
something safe in your unsafe
as if you, unconsciously now
have put me, your world
in my proper, rightful place

the meaning, it may have
gotten lost, in the dark
the bludgeon of purity,
the stoic in stark

contrast to
the good intent,
i came with, upon you
unlike any other,
nothing tried, nothing true

never came to harm,
scare, like a hope,
heart, imbued

i just somehow got lost
in the depths of the safe/unsafe
punctured psyche, reality, recognition

of all the things torn apart, us both
inside, now conditioned

the endlessly searching,
silent knowing/unknowing
drown, here defined,

safely, unsafely

as

the naturally, organically
developed dynamic

me and you....


bowen hart roselli
27 september 2020
ringwald love

if I'm a doormat,
you're a door
forever swinging open, closed
you can't figure out,
I'm not the thorn, I'm the rose

nothing you are used to, it seems
I'll take all your shit,
and kinda enjoy it
as you rip me open, at the seems

cuz no one moves me,
shakes me like you,
and in this shallow world
depth of feeling, loyalty, disposable
i came here to show you
someone delivering the goods,
organically
not full of filler, plastic and posable

so it may be twisted, "psycho"
according to you,
and yeah, i kinda liked it
when you called me that too

cuz it was a compliment, endearing
coming from you
you can call me anything you want
just please, don't stop calling me,
It's true...

i felt we had an extraordinary connection
you think I'd act this way
for just anyone,
as if i made it all up in my head,
the detection

that an exchange occurred
an energy, one of a kind
born of two humans, good hearts
who, by the way, just so happened
to have completely lost
their fucking minds...

seems pretty sane,
to me, in this world
place of so much garbage,
for so little gain
no wonder I've come
to a little pleasure in pain

cuz anything worth having,
so they say, takes some work
so go ahead and be
what you gotta be,
sometimes sweet, then a detached jerk

cuz i know I'm not easy
and neither are you
us humans, we're complicated
beyond your proclamations
of "chill", that's only part of the truth

as you've got your troubles
and I've got my bubbles
like the one you like to burst,
called "love" and the other
called "hate to" with your truth,
stings, still stung

towards sticking around
no matter your "what"
as in, "did you just say that?
yes you did"...
giving new meaning to
the flip, as in lid..

i love your "sunny",
mr. charlie, mac, dennis, frank
i guess that leaves me, sweet dee
always trying to one up,
catch up, join your ranks

cuz your the "always in"
like the tv theme, philadelphia
how the heaven, the hell
did ya think it wasn't real,
all the ways that i fell for ya..

a tune so cute,
it just begs for mischievous,
so right, then so wrong
just like all your inner divine
dipped in devious

and there's nothing wrong with that
as there's nothing wrong with you
at least nothing that a little
understanding and a loving
"fuck you" and time, devotion
can't prove

as we are so very different
but I'm sorry to say, yes,
underneath, i am a lot like you

so there's little i can say about you
that i can't say, the same for me too

"quite a pair" is still a pair
if you'd just let it be
however it fits, in your world,
"strange ways" heart
there was, is, "a something"
that happened to both of us
called a "we"

no big scary,
"to be ashamed of" thing
just know that i know
and I'm not afraid of whatever
your "bring it on" brings

so if ya want, bring the tacos
and I'll bring the chips
and if i get on your last nerve
you can bring the desire to
to flat out fatten my lip

not that you would
but just know in mind, spirit, ya could
cuz i can be, times, a bit too much
but I'd do anything for ya
end of day, that's found luck...

so once more
if I'm a doormat
you're then, a door
but you can't slam it shut
without knowing, it wasn't real
all i gushed, gave, felt
in the state of a deep, thankful
utter "bliss found, fucked", adore

both of us battling
a hella, lotta, inside, inner shit
but all i ever really wanted, want to do
was, is, sit beside, in front of you
and listen and glow,
grow a better hearted, human
happier, because of it...

because, the secret,
in many ways I'm a selfish,
scarred deep, prick
but not for you, cuz you got through
to the best in me,
the center, it seems
and here you rest, stay
what a treat, not a trick...

so please, mr. door
just stay open, a bit
let the doormat become
a fellow door, next to you
and make a double one
that somehow, in whatever way
together, works, fits...


bowen hart roselli
26 september 2020
ringwald love 

 
be right, be wrong
be weak, be strong
be a total jerk, or a total not
be all the things ya want, or forgot

be sensitive, be sharp
be detached, be dark
be light, be lost
be found, be not

anything but your damn divine self
throw my spirit to heights past stars
or drag me down to the depths of hell

call me psycho
or whatever you want
just never wanna be to you,
"that cunt"

that causes rolls of eye, "not again"
as in, "what now",
"does he want", chiming in...

via text, via mail,  "the e" or "the snail"
via voice, here, no choice
you're the shit that makes the sun
warm, rejoice

shining down like a beam, enveloping
a striking awareness,
life all around me, developing

be sorrowful, enraged
be unkind, uncaged
be sweet, be provoking
in your thoughts, be stoking

all the fires, the embers, admired
you, the one thing
i could never seem to run from
or tire

even if ya wear me down
at times, that's just a part
of the deal, what's been found...

be broken, be bruising
be straight, be confusing
be present, then gone
be short, then long

be together, as in "with it"
be befuddled, as in "out of it"
be the pre-game show, be the start
be sometimes, touchingly torn apart

but please, my fucked up, for you, heart

don't you ever, the gift, you, leave
be whatever it is you are, want, need

I'll say thank you, I'll say please
there is no shame, only strength
no need...

to be anything beautifully
except the "just be you"

that's all i care
cuz your magic, can't help it
to me, that's just truth.

doesn't have to make sense
or be, like science, exacting, understood
doesn't have to be either
all bad, all scary, all good

some shit just is
and you, yes, by far
the brightest, found, my universe
of stars

so if you need,
go ahead and leave scars

I'll take them in and tend to em, proud
all you've allowed, thus far,
on a cloud
sometimes grey, sometimes "nine"
never cheap, never lame,
it's like you say, "legit", all the time

be you, bruise or bleed me, ok....

but at the end of the day
just you being you
it all feels pretty damn,
soul set ablaze for you,

heart,
"man of good n plenty",
just fine.


bowen hart roselli
30 september 2020
ringwald love