there are roads i take with winding paths

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.