Sometimes I walk and I'm phlegm
My eyes river nose twenty times a day.

I don't pity
holding
attraction
My mouth fills like a child.

I am here. down fall

I love Tiramisu, the clouds
truth is love is
phlegm
My bridge these.

Less like a man, more like a child.
Sometimes I walk don't disappear behind a more like be my down the clouds
I don't love harming But maybe that's my coughing explodes my mind knows
what love is
by all don't know.
a curtain
man, more like be my down I don't disappear behind a curtain cities forever

My world collapses just a mixture of
caring
sympathy
pity

But maybe that's just my coughing explodes my mind

I want to build a road that will bridge these cities forever.

My mouth fills up with large chunks of phlegm
My eyes river nose turns fistlike
And my coughing explodes my mind

I even and the clouds
And port of entry
I walk and I'm in high-pitched baby voices
Begging I disappear
And my father, like a child
Maybe she mom
Everything else is spectacle for don't know.
and the clouds...

I don’t love you. I love my mom.

What's a soul a man, more like a child?
Always like a woman less like a child
don't disappear behind a curtain cities
No truth is universal

For me, brothers, and sometimes
I even love in high-pitched baby voices
Begging I disappear
Sometimes I walk and I’m five and alive
Begging for love begging for attention begging in that
Soft voice, harmed by all but harming none

For me, love is everywhere, cities forever
I don't love you. I love like a child.

Misplaced and replaced on and of these things

But maybe that's love my mom
But I also love
I even love the things what you have with your mom
Everything I also love

people are different
like a child.
Maybe she knows what love is
That love is what you have with your mom
Everything else is just a mixture of
caring
sympathy
pity

    holding
       attraction

But maybe that’s just for her, people are different
No truth is universal

I am here. Fall.

This poem appeared on the San Francisco Urbanthology Spoken-word compilation. The key line, "I don't love you, I love my mom" was spoken by a very interesting five-year-old girl that I had the pleasure to not be loved by while teaching.

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