Have you ever before all of a sudden dashed - and shot off running full-speed in just one of many immediate directions to go—just running swift and hard? Hard-running top speed and the ever-harder breathing…panting, for burning inhales and accelerating exhales that uplift and depress the lungs quicker than the sprint you are so provoked by and caught up in? Have you ever been just a bullet launching out of a black barrel? Or a demon straight out of hell emerging out of the darkest bat-cave? Flying. Running. Just running as if the only thought in your mind is to be driven apart from what continually drives you away from the first inception thought-evoking idea of it, as if a bomb within has erupted the sanity, or rather the serenity in your brain? Have you ever ran because you had to escape from some mysterious element? Have you ever run from a compulsive impulse in your mind that triggers your heart to implode in the sentiment of utter incomprehension? Have you ever triggered your very own fear and adrenaline? Have you ever had a fear of falling hard, while running hard?—Remember?—When at that moment when you were crash-falling as if it were the final second of a disturbingly deep, dream, when at that instant when we feel flat-faced upon the world’s floor, crafted of its oh-so-ever-changing templates…which could possibly have been the fallen leaves of the autumn season, amidst naked, tall trees located in an American camp-site lit by the effervescent moon in its fullness; or; Imagine maybe taking that fall in the middle of a street in the black community out front of mother’s first house; that first house we moved into when ‘they’ vacate the projects, with a backyard and well kept front lawn and the singular black mail box at the end of the quaint carport and neighborhood street-ball court…just running and hoping not to fall and be seized against your will; Still sprinting breathlessly up the middle of that road where the double yellow lines are always supposed to be but yet there were none painted? Again, have you ever run…and fallen while you were escaping a dark plot? Did that rapid dash away from you don’t know what become a dream since your eyes were closed unintentionally while you vociferously and rapidly were speeding away all the while your mind’s eye open unintentionally? By now, when the running and falling are final and over and ceased to calm and you have dusted yourself clean and become somewhat pain free… Did you realize you were running from self imposed guilt or superimpose denial?...Running from that which you can’t seem to face from your past- that inescapable past which is merely ...just the thought of something?

Forever? … or; For never? I’m always pondering the Questions. Always I have from the past, to the future, especially now in the present presence. The next question I ponder: Why don’t I be more specific?— about questions on my mind and ideas imbedded in my heart so ever-present. How long should we be with us? … Will long distance ultimately distance us? & question & question after question pertains to us; Forever and For-never’s infinite gradients. Can’t forget, I too, ask a more relevant question: How much of us do we trust? …This voice in my heart, persistently, is seeking an answer. These desires I own for us I know isn’t any damn front. My heart needs to pump. My mind’s rest and serenity require you and me to be upfront… Requiring the lightest of our lies and the deepest dark of our trust. However? Whenever? Wherever? ... Whatever happens, happened. So let us not shift our Love towards Lust.Let’s vacation in Forever. Why vacate, resort, or abort a change for the better? Why take the birth of our unborn love and leave it in For-never?

I think you can handle me in any and every instantaneous moment of eternity. My candidness and yet earnest words may at first seem meaningless and maybe utter non-sense, yet in quick reconsideration, indeed appear subliminally deep exponentially, and sometimes enigmatic for moments such as these; however I may unwittingly draw this self-portrait revealing the inner-me as playfully, but God forbid intellectually cheap. Being quite intelligent, I experience an odd evaluation of my curiosity which is killing me and misleads me to speak anything and ramble thoughtfully. Do please excuse the pimpin’ seeming actions that belong to me inherently—some of all this teasing is a remedy to the beloved disease you have become to me. O! How I think you can handle me… My words are such fantastic actions that have now to change, because I refuse to risk coming off as “lame-to-the-game.” My procrastination in seeking you face-to-face, I find myself very hesitantly and nearly hopelessly wanting my lips to kiss and taste the words I have yet discovered to say. Having now found the impulse never any longer strickening and allowing our bodies’ language to hesitate, essentially vexing my own self with written words to mediate, now please appreciate my stamina, do meditate as I write this revelation, and finish intuiting why I began this poem’s poetry so very charismatically. O! How I think you can handle me… Handle me and my candid selves of alter—ego reality found in real life. But forgive me of my sentiments; they are often humble arrogance, macho sexuality, and loyal confidentiality. Oxy-morons prove I am worthy to be heard and worthy to be. After-all, I’m incline to talk loudly about inter-play and about myself initially; but please resort to your own thinking and be free; interrupt my rambling and nothingness with everything you have to say. My person—all of me—tends always to do the human thing, which is change. I have faced the facts and I know, you are my change; assist me & don’t resist me; Together let’s reset & restart the game. The fact is, you are becoming an inner energy, the one I desire to coarse throughout my veins, my soul, my temple, and in our own reality. O! How I think you can handle me… I demand you handle me and mine, sometimes vile or my rarified righteous & divine. I have so many relevant questions in mind. Can you handle me in totality? ... think it over sometime. Can you transpose my pains for your pleasureabilities? I will never doubt your ability…or agility…or flexibility…or your femininity. Don’t you, too, want to handle my obvious instability of my masculinity and apparent vulnerability? Are you aware of my friendly mutuality? Is now our time for sexual spontaneity, willfully? Questions do plague me. You sure really need to know thoroughly how I think, but please desire and want more to know my freaky, sexy-intensity to the highest degree. Are you now sensing me, as you en-vision this moment of—clarity? O! How I think you can handle me… Now consider this: That I think the better, or rather, the best of my words and search this poetry, honestly, Then, honestly, my lust borders savagery and mild, eros, and bestiality. My fetish appetite is one of starving for your attention silently but yet moanfully & spiritually yet bodily and in any and every way. -When I dream of you and pause in the day, I pray you are the one thing that works out my way. This isn’t a desperate game or child’s play or for that matter the game players play. With you I cannot become a body of lies, because without our naked truth, and pillow-talk discourse about our intimate intercourse and the epiphany of your voyage upon my poetic saddle and equestrian horse of my Sagittarian voice…Oh! How I need for you to just realize; Feel me rise or witness my complete demise. Believe me in order that I can believe in thee. Don’t dismiss