there are roads i take with winding paths
i cannot see nor predict the end
but it plays as a constant
wrapped around inside.
my specificity challenges me
as does my immune system
which is weak in the summertime.
i always speak of a ‘you and i’
when there is no you and only i.
everything is always me
me, myself, my priority
until conflict comes with new factors
inflicting thunder -
what once was still is now sparkling.
i get too tired to finish
i rarely cum with the men i’ve been with
and flash comes the lightning
accompanying predictions
that i cannot see or refuse to believe.
i would ask myself beneath surface level
yet it teases me with transparency.
is this what i can only dream to see
or just reality.