Flavor

Fuck! How’d we get here: my laundry; you sniff?
It started, & still is, cathartic riff.

No plan, no outline…I jack myself in.
Plugging my brain in Creation’s swift whim.

Her faucet is always turned on for me.
Runs & runs cold; until I turn on heat.

So, gratitude’s my resting attitude.
It swells at the end of these interludes.

For, this ain’t hard with mechanics built in.
Sweat comes with bravery; naming each sin.

Still, I can’t dive deeper day after day.
Serious peppers a fixed state of play.