like flour for playdough

I don't want this frustration. I don't want to want what I shouldn't want. I don't want to be numb, regardless. I don't want all that to pose such a problem. I don't want this faulty, dried-up, penned on eraser. I don't want what I want to want, but I do. I don't want this leaky spigot. I don't want these masks, upon masks, upon plastic surgery. I don't want the nibble-nibble knee-jerk. I don't want the lying. I don't want the twitching daydreams, they quicken, but some shouldn't live. I don't want the end of the line. I don't want the complete pot of gold, I'd rather have silver. I don't want the dirges. I don't want the attitude. I don't want the dog piss on the rug. I don't want the crumpled paper to be stolen. I don't want these stale essences. I don't want the fake communion. I don't want the straightforward ship. I don't want old bottom-of-the-shoe gum. I don't want a juvenile medium. I don't want to be forgotten. I don't want the sun all the time. I don't want squishy linoleum. I don't want just the wishbone. I don't want a model. I don't want it, but don't want to lose it either. I don't want to know sometimes. I don't want perfection. I don't want lousy. I don't want an exclamatory dud. I don't want empty inferences. I don't want to believe when I shouldn't. I don't want to be a boss. I don't want this finger twiddling as often. I don't want all the fence uprooted. I don't want the puke on the steering wheel. I don't want to go unanswered for eternity. I don't want an Oscar. I don't want wilted. I don't want flowery, frou-frou, dandy candy.
I want real. I want one. I want the snow filling my eyes. I want the work. I want that walk to nowhere some days, to somewhere on others. I want to be loved. I want the smorgasbord grasses. I want the special sauce. I want the driving fuel, not putt-putt-puttering out. I want kaleidoscope lanterns. I want sometimes singed fingertips. I want to stay the same, as well. I want the picture, somewhat unfinished. I want paint to stain my hands. I want paper cuts from doing the jigsaws. I want miasmas, the smells of night's candles. I want stickers. I want pipe cleaners. I want to be incensed. I want dyed n glued macaroni with glitter. I want fluctuating wells and springs. I want a poet's heart. I want that.