The hunt

You is pretty, you is smart, you is nice. All those things you are; and a million things more you are too. I flow in between albums and playlists and cynics and dungeons and dragons; but the good kind of dragons, not the ones that need slaying. And I'm late again, it's so easy to get caught in the frenzy on moving trains and people and humidity. I hate that one, and feet. My mind is sharp, and its fulfilling to let it flow through me, reaching every corner and every bone and every muscle and every nerve. I let it all go out. It might find you. But this is just me hoping to give you a good kiss and patch it all up with some soup. It feels funny, your gut speaks words you cant even begin to comprehend, even if you try. So i don't. I take leaps from here to there and everywhere in between the two. Every one of those met me halfway, I've never been the kind that doesn't get in return. At least in that sense. And its always freeing to be whatever you chose to be, as always being able to chose what to do with what you feel, or what you need; think you need to be precise. It leaves me bewildered how close it can come to home, the one that's a feeling and not a place; the way I learned it a few years back, when everything about me was voracious, and not in a good way like it is today. I'm still alluring, bold and deranged, and maybe a bit too much of a savage; everything that comes out of my psyche is the combination of all the good intentions every soul i ever touched had. I have this snare inside me and every thought and word drips through it, it only catches pleasant things. I've been blessed with knowledge of all kinds. There's this resonance to it, a limbic resonance if you ask me. And maybe that word is the key to everything i feel, all those thoughts with deep roots, making up the wholesome of my brain. It can be a key to you too, the one that opens doors of all kinds and shapes and colors, unraveling you mind, leaving a bit of mess behind without a doubt. I find every bit of it, the good, the bad and the ugly, appealing, and indeed, worth it. Its a kind of ride that leaves you aghast, and bewitched; it takes you everywhere and nowhere at the same time, its always up to us to have it lucid and vibrant, to know what we hunt for and go for the throat. All this things spring from my fingers, not sure if wanted, but blunt and raw, and driving and brittle and inevitable, so I let myself flow, hoisting higher, smartening every grisly detail about me.