worth doing half-assed

you elude my fingers,
rather, you make them dodge
hit and miss keys,

it takes you to take
me back you make
me write, you
make me.

right.

you make chlorophyll
seem trivial and
q-tips significant.

hexagram?

heck's-o-gramme.

god, you're delicious
i want to lick my fingers
when i'm done with you,
wipe them on my jeans.
you throw me, and you
know it, know me.

you called me on it,
my bastard coating;
bastard batter:

pushover people-pleaser personality.

you get me to write
about you instead of me.
no one does that,
you know.

left ventrickle?

more.
i want the way your
spelling tingles
around my nostrils,
the back of my tongue.

you, uh, muse me.
you don't disturb
the Gilmour.

if you give me five
dollars i'll sing
you s'more.