Sadness set in this evening, or what is soon to be yesterday evening. I blame it on potatoes. Carbs usually make me tired, trigger pain, and make me question my entire existence. Yes—this is the power of the Tater Tot in my life.

Other things besides deep-fried hash-browned potatoes do that to me, too—trigger stuff. All sorts of things, really, and all day long, and sometimes into the late night.

It is interesting, to say the least.

I have all these parts of me, most of which I very much appreciate, but then I have these additional parts, that in many ways feel like spare parts left over from an old model. All these parts just lying around, scattered about on the ground, serving no purpose but to cause me to stir….which I guess is a use in and of itself….to stir me.

It’s super hard at times. Seems so much in my life is a potential tater tot. I employ all types of remedies to avoid the taters; I really do. So much positive thinking. So much positive measures and actions. All in all, I find spending time with me marvelous. That is until the taters come.

Thing is it seems these taters, they inspire me. Something about the tater angst, I reckon.

Enough

Rabbit hole

What you think

Of how I should exist

Created dungeon

Walls of dirt

Evaluation and judgment

To please, yet again

Unsettled penetration

Unmanageable persuasion

Hand raised high

Shielded

Rising

To the blue sky

Goodbye earthly things

I Whisper Enough!

I Whisper I am enough

I Whisper you are enough

Enough, enough, enough

I keep whispering enough

—

Sam, june 2012

Mr. Muse

I use you, Mr. Muse

A diamond in my pocket

A tickle in my loin

A rescue to my drowning

A raptured delight to lover’s song

Your whispers magic

Your power gold

How I long to wrap you in all of me

Twist and contort to fit my every groove

Keep you, me as master

You as slave

To my every desire

Come, I’d say

Whisper now, love now

Bleed your rivers thick

Delectable

Delicious

I feed off

Nibble and concave in passion

Vampire elfin princess

Engorged with crimson pearls

Oh, my Mr. Muse

To trap you and hold you

To cage you like a bird

But free

But free, my gentle man

You be

—