sick of being sick and tiredi'm donesick of being sick and tired6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all through the
making my arms
i just got back from the butcher's
for all i've done
wrong and that
which i haven't done at all
this is my confession
be mistaken as a prayer
this is a dream
anything i consider fair
dear midnightmy earthy mattress tickles my neckdear midnight6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as i lay down to stare at my love,
but i am not looking over;
i am looking up.
power lines scar her stellar
dark-blue face, and city lights
pollute her skin like a thousand
spotlights on an over-powdered model.
but i am not concerned about
her blemishes; no, tonight i am here
to find flawlessness beneath
and so i gaze
the stars are the freckles
on heaven's nose, and the clouds
the hair of Venus herself.
i reach up to try to sift my fingers
through her wispy white locks,
but find she is too far away.
a single star drifts across the dark
cheeks of the night, and i fear
she is crying over our unrequited
distance. i can see her
clear as crystal vision,
but i am merely
a speck on her spectacles.
i turn my head and see
the harvest moon cradled
in heaven's arms, her craters
frothing over like chilled strawberry
wine, and i
i am drunk.
her shooting star. once upon a time...her shooting star.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there was a girl.
she never danced along the milky way.
she never trapped any stars in her web of hair.
she never ran away with a shooting star.
[although he's tempted her to]
there she was, probably a lone space rock
floating in space, living her days beside other
moons and planets that outshined
her, she's been waiting.