Return to an ode to toasterleavings (idea)

sometimes i don't [understand] your words
other times, they're all that [floats] in my head
[slip]ping 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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