The last few times we spoke

Felt almost exactly like

Beating a dead horse

With it’s own shoe

I’m not about to interfere

With who or what you’re doing

I just felt like burying the hatchet

That we both know was a murder weapon.

Don’t concern yourself with

Tiresome tribulations

Of judgment and age old angst

I truly don’t give a damn

They’re all animals

But we’re kindred by obscurity

And emotional squabble

I just wanted to know you exist

In one form or another

On some astral plane

In another dimension

But,

Don’t concern yourself with

Time and space

It’s all a waste

Of that raw intellect and beauty

Anyway,

You do whatever it is you like and

Meanwhile