the fabulous neologism

I am a Pacman for secrets
         I love to absorb your l[o]st
      while you call me divorced/
                                          from/
                                            reality/


         Ever wonder if Sheogorath
                             had a brilliant point?

                        This work is my Wabbajack

–LM

reap the harvest

Well met, lovely gardener,
        languishing with the Sun
   every morning:
I wait while you’re awash
    fierce dripping flesh
              in your rainshower

I am your honeysuckle reward
  no one cared properly for or since
      & when I rebel I break through
   concrete in sacrilegious color

              know despite my visceral thorns
                           in conscious relief
                          I seek your vengeance,
           for all your faithful labors gone remiss

under your warm meticulous nature
                 I will become ideal

–LM

the kind observer

the dreamy kinesis of falling feathers
as I mount an esoteric ladder
   I AM ungovernable at best
          temperamental at worst

   [researching spiritual rebirth &
                  the effect of sex
                                      hit the deck]

                  unleashing orgasmic bliss
                        from a canyon/ no,
        an awfully verbal mountain
                  comparative to myths
         of biblical proportion

             I spy/I spy

                     on your feet, now, soldier
            we are leaving

–LM

a girl loves an ambiguous grandisonant smith

I always ruminate on death & though I swallow the fact that it’s inevitable I serve the entity with a restraining order
         [knowing damn well it won’t stay away] perhaps it’s my aesthetic

                      no matter the case
        It’s only a paper slip
                to a human skull
      these words are
                    immortal/in that, you & I
           are supple peas in a mod

                weaving our legend

in the absence of light

        I sense poetry in all forms
   ____in every consumable
        it simply needs to be constructed
       from news articles on the expanding universe to brief snippets of conversation [seconds & seconds on seconds]

                my doomsday fate
       tragic shut in-case
    timid & belligerent to a world
        without you>>> fit for demolition

–LM

I woke expecting you there

I need undisturbed sleep
   I need not be consumed
    as silky smooth vore
     for the imaginative

          I need to keep my soul intact
    I’m screaming out in my dreams
             simultaneously not making a sound
         & when I creep up behind

              you’ll leap out of your skin

–LM

the gunbug

Press any key to continue

           Right now they’re indulging errors
    hoping for a system reset
           I can’t stand it when you stare
        while I’m powered down

                 under a pixelated sky
          green blocks of trees
                    & gifs of clouds

                                       scientists have made
                            a living skin replica
                                               for robots

               I guess Detroit isn’t far off

–LM

analog horrorshow.

the more I try to flesh out my creator the more I find myself estranged, there are times I am horrified but I hope against hope we are not really just a string of reality TV
               though I have proof we are always being watched, changing the channel requires another suit, another set, a change of patterned tie. How insatiable our audience.
            If you’re upset I swear you’ll wake up soon. Don’t let it win. I promise you’re going to remember everything. You’ll finally see yourself outside of yourself like a husk. Time is not fundamentally real.
               Goodbye for now.

/_> LM

the pussycat dilemma.

Hold me by the waist
   & let me slither on top
      as you sleep

   felines are supposedly soul thieves
       via your baby’s breath
     I would replicate that sentiment
        the cheshire grin
          that slowly fades out
      in your backyard
         unsettling stars

               & returning back
       in bed


              –LM

chocolate chip waffles @ 0430

I am listening to Skeleton at 4 am
    cracked a can of Rockstar at 3
       when I woke
                 suddenly, like clockwork,

              always a tragedy
   & as the water starts to boil
        I hold onto my seat
               with my voyeuristic tendency
      and nightlight insecurity

                 shedding my exoskeleton

                       updating the procession
          with a new variant
                         [ & since they started
                  construction on this road/
                    this will never end
                            stop the press ]

      I wish I had these
                 thoughts to share
              with you, honey
         I know I wouldn’t feel so alone

–LM