I Know

What is this.

A slow paced mind.
Too careful, too powerful.
Smothered in love-slick, feels like a dipstick.
Nothing is mutual. Perpetual nothing.

Chemical crayons liberate the art-form,
nuances of grieve and shame erode the psyche
Too much overflows by the thoughts.

Ego fanatic, my own, my pleasure.
Illusion has feeling, trust.
give way, be gentle if you wish.

One flesh, a soul too many.