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You bring me sharp
inhalation.
You feed me deep
relaxation.
I want you
but i cross my arms.
I think to much
about potential harms.
Wisk it light
fluff filled mind
and Eyes to blind.
Rewind the clock Rewind.
Count the norm in your textbook.
Yes- you go do that.
Count the precipice angle -- is it exactly 90 degrees with respect to the negative boundaries of the page?
Yeah- better make sure you can figure that.
Count the linings of my lips:
wanna make sure they match those that'd number a smile.
For after all, who else will lead you to your exile?
Count your way through life the way I tell you to do so,
because I am the decision-maker of your pathway-- you stop, grow, and steer on my sayso.
"But teacher, teacher, if I don't assent to your tactics, why may I not tell you?"
Because sheer courtesy and precedent directs us not to.
Do I ride that wave
Am I prism cut
Some bend of puce grey
A splintered chanterelle ray
I dunno Bobbio
All those online tests sure sayso
But I have yet to be
Neuromanced and diagnosed
So who can really sayso
You I suppose
Tell me
Is the ghost of your
Daddio all arodeo
In his brothers grave
At the thought of you
Is he rather glad
To be dead instead
Under that eternal flame
I got a degree
I got a PhD
I got a job
(for now)
I pay my taxes
All the papers sayso
Anyhow
Is this a poem
How the **** would I know

— The End —