instead of serving a man,
I'm serving a purpose

please let me know
if the "misunderstand",
in my destruction, of self, was worth this

misconstrued, beliefs
that if I ripped out my heart
handed it to you, me, every part
you would somehow see me
with love, so the start

of climbing rocks
not "black and blocks"*
as in another transient
"meant nothing" experience
that i must black out, erase
quite clear, in this

those rocks i climbed
to reach your heights
once you had me in your sights

were nothing more
than a means to an end
the work required,
build your ego, then send

tumbling down,
then back up again
same old game, different body part
and when

you were done
i was just another one
nothing to do, with the inside, me
like the blind, ask, then
what it is they can't see

my fault, always
fixated on fires
in fractured hallways
putting words to thoughts
and beliefs to illusions
vision, it becomes the crippling intrusion

just a side effect, sometimes
me, living in a dream
ceiling stares, sighing,
"I'll do anything, if you believe and forgive me, this time"

meanwhile, you've moved on
hit the gas,
on the pedal,
rearview mirror, looking past

any reflection,
remembrance of me
as in, "it had nothing to do with"
but in this way, not a good thing

this is exactly what it means
my "disposable and pose-able"
like a fleshlight, with a built in glowable
as unnecessary, after the fact
just, i, the dumbshit, not in on the act

that filters, broken
misperceive words spoken
as actually meaning,
something more than they do,
label me "had", then disposed of,
when through

side effects, sometimes
they can show you what's true
but only if, you the strength,
look anew

at realities beyond
your limited scope, mind
very few and little here,
are very ever that pure and kind

as to not be operating
from feared "motives, ulterior"
we obliterate the inside,
for the objectified exterior

i happen to be, one who gives as to live
makes me feel like i'm shining, when sharing
all that i have, for the few, worth the daring
gifts offered, are given soul free
it's not about expecting something in return
it's about seeing a soul, then touched,
in a land where most don't do these things very much

most words spoken,
forgotten, once said

and to have any kind
of memory now
means,
"best do research on the lobotomized head"

as in how to get one,
in order to survive
this, not a place
where "the soft men", survive

so harden up,
and not in cock
learn to steer clear
of climbing those rocks

for any man or being, at hand
that needs elevation,
"false god", inflation
sole purpose, steal your soul, for theirs
an act of power, because they sensed they could,
wanting you left then, knowing, feeling
you are less than worthless, think "hollowed out wood"

side effect, sometimes

wisdom, for wanting

in your splitting, tormenting, you've earned this

but for the longing of lips, kissed,
love and lust, trust,
the lesson, you, will never, learn this

that long ago "upon a star", i felt him, sensed him, in shadow, his "call"
and since then i've "done it" and saw, i thought, all
until i experienced him, slowly, and found a new kind of "fall"

(for, apart, the "in", before love)

as the desire to believe, in love give and recieve
now matter how "bizarre" or broken, unspoken, it's form
is the mountain i will forever reach for, climb
vision embedded within, someway, somehow,
he is out there waiting, i've met him, speaking in silence, "be mine"



bowen hart roselli
3 april 2020
ringwald love


*the "black and block" teqhnique is something taught to me by a brilliant friend, i refer to as "Xackati"