Return to an ode to toasterleavings (idea)

sometimes i don't understand your words
other times, they're all that floats in my head
slipping in and around thoughts of what it is
that might be keeping my feet placed so firmly
upon the earth

you're my little fungus
blue, magical mushroom
spouting off text
into the e2 abyss

you've got more experience than i can poke
lovingly, with my stick of admiration 
it seems everything that leaves you
has some level of potency, intrigue
(be careful not to lose too much of yourself)

it seems your dream switch, wires
have been crossed, maybe broken
everyone's do once in a while..
watch me try (i know i can't) to be the 
restorer of dreams, just for you
(i know i couldn't understand everything that floats around in your intensely complex, twisted human brain, i think this is because you were meant to be born into a tree so that i could just admire the way your leaves would be a thousand shades of green and stand apart from all of the others. i see you as a poplar.. ask me about that some time, if you like.)

This is #2 in my slowly growing "ode to a noder" series.
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