I use my senses to create emotional crutches,
tetherings to get moving along,
grips and clutches to lift and persuade,
uplifting carrots of sensory design,
get-tos or have-tos that lead me along.
the whole day fills
with apparatus of that kind,
yearnings as pep-talks that call me,
zest to-dos in want-tos,
crayons of color
that fill in the mental-blanks,
forwards to wear as emotions support me.
the mind is filled with stall-point potentials.
can't say there is a wall of whys,
holding me back,
but emotional incentivizing is paramount
to my doing
and my senses are all-hands-on-deck
to the tasks at hand.
maybe there are those
who mentally march on,
but I am not one of them.
I can admire and deeply appreciate
but I am also a stall-point in wonder.
I could never be caught
wearing mental certitude.
if I take stands,
it's because they are delicious.
if I proceed,
it's because I am drawn.
some cluster of appeal
has emotional aromas.
all movement forward
is a disguised form of embrace.
color between the lines
has been what lines? where?
and who keeps track of that?
I have to drink it in, to get it.
I have to monkey-pile in feelings
to get movement.
the biggest working muscle in me
has feel as flex.
my movement is reading me the story of me
and that is emotionally animated
and settling.
sure they are people who are straight away,
directed forward and doing.
but I need and use some other form
of embellishment.
parts of me that run ahead and calls out
and I chase after
as an intimate form of hide and seek.
sight is cleverly applauding.
sound is ever calling
and movement is feeling the swim.
sure, I can give appearances
that all is fine and efficiently appropriate,
but on the inside,
it is all grips and leverage,
earnest and effort,
pulleys and levers.
even though no one actually sees them.
competence,
I can give you the look of competence.
but if you have expertise,
you can eventually feel the way
that I move myself along . . .
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