when I feel it all

Often when I feel it all,
top, full, high with wisdom,
primal in love, life grants

a taste of humble pie crust,
a flaky, doughy dab of baked
bland that sticks to the gums

or crumbles in the carpet, stale
bits of paper time. Just lust
winning antidotes you'd crack,

cross sticks, fucked by romance
so doomed to fail. Will call
awaits, while some new grief comes

to goad and possess fakes and facts
carry me to a fancy
​dinner, suit and tie, to try trust.