Ode 27

I went on a beat spree because you said you were coming back soon I guess I was inspired

But if my head gets in the way as per usual they won’t come out before I retire

I wrote bed instead of head was that a Freudian slip

Or maybe some foreshadowing on the fantastical tip

Whichever it is

Whatever it was

I hit delete and erased the thought I mean the word

I’m sitting in my car authoring this ode, a different day, same turd

My mind flees, running rampant on you

My eyes freeze replaying candids of you

My lips tingle, reminiscent of you

My fingers mingle, praying for you

Every fiber, every cell is in on this

Patiently marinating on imminent bliss

Hopefully

Maybe

I think