Manic, let me preserve your touch

Head on fire like ghost rider

the confidence of a leather jacket

whipping chains of hyperdrive

direction? Everywhere.

my heart is on an F1 track, racing

slicing the air that usually

holds me from destiny

This feeling that I’m sure

is snapping my synapses

fusing ends into clasps

dilating my pupils

zooming my senses, in and out

has me embracing:

-adversity as ammunition

-anxiety as premonition

-apathy as vexation

life.

I need this feeling

like Marvin Gaye’s sexual healing

In my muscle memory

The imagination of visual representation

Is Groot, a Flerken, Ben Hargreeves, Canary, Secrets

I feel hunger like nitrous

and slow music, सुकून (peace)

Disruption like electricity and

intensity like fire

I am the dragon that exhales it

Actualization like Neo

and the power of the Sun

in the palm of my hand

I am righteous

I am justice

I am poetry in motion

I am enlightened and epithetic

I am trembling for change

And shooting

for the stars.

The Manic Touch may elude me

in the forward-step of time

Words will fall short of implement

and this high, this mania

may remain singular and unrepeatable

-a footnote

and so I prepare

biddance of farewell

to this stranger

and our whirlwind romance

it’s my own adjustment bureau

I attract, not chase.