you rouse me. whirling colors in a radial spiral, you beam in many different directions - I have always liked my men tall with a soul flattened in a Great surrender. performing a prophecy by how he walks, plummeting towards destiny. labored talks and a drawl that tells me time only escapes me when I let it. a lisp that sounds like the crackle you hear when the record scratches, signaling a classic. you are a classic. and I can’t find a sliver of will in me that wants to hold you down. instead, everything in me desires to uplift you. inspire you and raise your degree as it were decreed. just for a minute, if you’ll let me.