Episode Details

Be My Lover

Lla da di

[Redacted]

I once was trapped within the prison of my own garden.

Something inside me yelped for this faraway spirt guide to shut up—but I was all the more ready to fry up the remainder of my tempeh, and continue to wallow in my loveless grief , wondering what would become of this undone monster—the disaster that was my own impossible maze of creation, however with gratitude, that I was standing in an immaculately clean kitchen, with a table full of books, and soup to cook. Gratitude that I was alone, and for the most part, alive and well.

Gratitude that I lived in one of the greatest cities on earth—maybe even the greatest—

But I didn't know yet.

I had never been to Tokyo;

I would be missing the Olympics in Paris;

Rome was still waiting at the other side of a giant puddle I was less fond of than its opposite;

Amsterdam l was some fabled tale I had only dreamed of—

And London begged to be brought to life in my own eyes, were I lucky enough to escape the arrested development of the burdens of my Brooklyn [redacted].

I might be getting to ‘famous' to tell people where I live.

[Unfamous.]

Lol is this the one with the guy going around knocking on doors

To see if people recognize him?

Yeah.

lol. It's a comedy, right?

Dark comedy.

(A black comedy.)

Nah, but you can't call it that,

Cause they'll think it has something to do with colored people, and they won't watch it.

That's literally the name of the genre.

My point stands.

{Enter The Multiverse}

—you'd be suprised how much more blatently racist people get from behind a screen or studying demographics and viewer preferences.

If you don't love me;

You like me

You watched me light my cigarette just the right way,

And liked it,

And that night,

I died in your arms,

Crying for myself—.

Lying to my wife,

As if next time, I might be better.

We all deserve second chances.

Good grief.

Who is this guy?

Some sad sap.

Sad is right.

Sap is more accurate.

I stroke your hair

With your head in my lap,

As though you belong to me;

I see the crease in your eyes as smiles

And your lips as petals

To a flower so sweet,

I can't wait to eat you,

Like honeysuckle on the tip

If a hot wet tongue,

Hungry for the berry it would become,

But eager to know the sweetness of just the flower,

Sure to bloom with the coming of seasons,

Just as sure to rise as the moon would,

Whether full or new;

In a sky fyull of stars,

All I see is you—

In a body of scars,

I am your demise,

Your pride forever altered by divine truth,

My light hides In darkness,

Your will to the light,

Like a moth to the flame,

Which I honor

And crumble over,

As she towers over us,

Seeking and ready to destroy

All flame to dust;

The ash is out

The tray on the table

I roll another

To smoke,

The guilt and shame of betrayal,

Distrust,

Unarmored, I mock my own judgement

A movement,

The box over a diamond

A row full of nothing but

Hawks, circling over.

Do you not know?

My favorite skit has a story;

Sara without an H was a real person.

Patrick was Fallon,

Now Fallon is Patrick—

I'm thouroughly confused;