Come over on a Sunday and poison me
Sneak beauty into my morning cup of joe when I'm not looking.
Secretly stick me with a syringe of inspiration
and impregnate my veins with innovation via immunization.
Leave shards of wonder on the kitchen floor
so when I go to the fridge, I step on enlightenment.
Forget football, throw a book at me;
so long as it's not Bukowski and let's play catch up.
I want to overdose on so much promise
that they don't even need a toxicology report.
I want the neighbors to be able to smell the poetry brewing
like collards and gizzard in the evening
The consensus is, as long as I'm conscious, I need a conscience.
So help me write my wrongs
Come over on a Sunday and poison me with passion
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