I’m so mindful
with my mind full of now
of what you did, or with whom, or what you said, or did not do or how,
I’m overflowing, near-mindless,
dry as a cactus in a clay pot,
bleeding water, thirsty for your time
as I explained more than once, my love.
Can’t take more of your leeching, mindless male-gaze mind.
Still, I think hard, and I don’t mind
if you mind me, or flood my mind to drowning.
I am nearly near melt-downing,
With the mindlessness of you.
You don’t care if my roots rot
or wilt in your heavy hot jungle
of kisses and lies.
Or, maybe, I will.
I’ll mind but I’ll try.
So, mind you, listen now,
mind you, flee the prickle-spikes
of my clamp-down mindful bites
on your know-not-hows.
They draw blood, mine or yours,
Drib-drops, careless of your (dis)likes,
your whores, right here, right now or lost in the latter.
See, I just mind you, mindfully,
and grow bitter in the parched heat,
dry of you, you never-mind, mindful-minding, minding-me-never, cheat.
But please be mindful, lest we ever meet.
I mind. Big time.