I don't remember being loved,

But I know I must have been

I remember thinking

That I'd never forget,

It's all so distant

And all I feel is cold.

Sunday morning routine

The times, tea, music,

The birds singing outside

Minding my own business,

And there she is.

She's crept into my head,

And it's all over. 

Sensing nothing but the thought

My passion flooded imagination,

I lose myself as I fall long and hard

Into a fantasy of her.

It rose up out of me,

From the deepest of fathoms

This yearning,

This desperate pining.

It's not how it's supposed to be

Not what's meant for me

Like never flinching,

Deadened the instincts that

Should have driven this train

When choices became chains

And suppression was expression

What did I become?

And why did I lie

When they asked me

Who I was

When I came to be who I wasn't,

Was when I lost it.

Retracing these steps,

Jerry was right

What a long strange trip it's been.

Fly because you're free

Bloom because you're beautiful

Love because you're loved. 

vacant minds

idle intercourse

typing poems into

google search bar

like that's where it belongs