my aesthetics are only pleasing
to the inappreciable.
aren't suppose to be romantic,
what a way to check out early.
the unclad trees in the rawness of winter only appeal to those who are
getting stopped at railroad crossings are never
a nuisance- watching the graffiti roll by always,
always leaves me highly pleased. delighted that the people who rushed
the lights, the sounds, and the level crossings
were too worried about getting to the shopping malls or the banks.
baby, my aesthetics are only charming to the peculiar boys who sit by themselves
the ones who find it tolerable being alone.
the way I memorize the veins
on the hands so as to not forget the ones who have
is entirely unique to few.
and seeing blackbirds fluttering in the skies one would speculate
but I marvel at the blackness against the bright skies.
my aesthetics are only magnetic to the
ones who comprehend that smiles do not signify happiness
that if it was of such great possibilities that I could let those
the ones who's perception is off know how much
joy I have inside me and how much beauty and romance dances in my body- if only
I could project the inside feelings to the outside world- they would never ask again
why there is rarely a curve of my lips.
and they would know that the most satisfying judgments are your own.