because you are not watering 'me' so i can water 'you'
this poem terrifies me.
what if you grow inside me like a jack-in-the-beanstalk marijuana weed?
and little dwarfs start swinging from my nose hairs?
will you, poet, accept responsibility for me being driven into insanity, by this potential collaboration of fauna & flora?
do not underestimate the power of the pen poet!
it is far greater than wielding a rusty old sword.
does this look like a fairy tale, Sir Grimm? i would surrender sanity to the allusion of a list of children's classics.
this is indeed a fairy tale. not all fairy tales have a happy ending, and are normally graded into: happilyeverafter, inbetween and neverthetwainshallmeet.
this falls within the neverthetwainshallmeet class, with a grimm underbelly.
and nobody calls me sir. i have no class, and am nothing but a common uncouth scallywag rotter/cad. so, please do not address me in that manner. i find it extremely disorientating to my sense of self-esteam, and i'm likely to blow my top. my friends call me bro, but you are not a friend, and therefore do not have permission to call me bro either.
to you poet/poetess, i remain unknown.
i post most of the poetry & critque here at poetry critical, in a wide variety of styles. you should easily be able to identify me by my pseudonym.
Almost like a conjoined fantasy, I look forward to more modern fables
dear critique with a most numbered of words whom i cannot address sir, friend nor bro but faithfully by pseudonym, nevertheless i could decipher his entity, his kind, his poetry
tales are but a staple to my shrinkage.
*dear critic ;(