He was a Daytime Wind-howler all covered in shrouds of grief
She was a Sunset Nightingale with pink and golden wreaths
Upon her head with hair so dark
It made one feign to weep
She held out hands of magic pearls and wiped his tears asunder
The fragile mess lay in her lap
The pale sky switched to thunder
She wasn’t bothered by his past
She’d sail on any ship
She’d fall in love real fast
Staring deep into majestic mirrors
She’d take on any form
If not for howler’s poison kiss,
She’d run right straight inside the storm
But for him, there were thorns everywhere
Blanketing the mother earth; the sky, the sea, the air
From whence he came nobody knows, but Daytime Wind-howler howls and howls and growls
Lets his teeth show
While Sunset Nightingale sings her love
Of daffodils and peppermint groves
Until the day when such grave laments
should
be
let
go
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:17 PM UTC
Violets in my hair
Whiskey on my breath
Neon letters scrawled across my porcelain chest
Heaven looks so far away
That which makes me envision
Also steals my youth
Like an ancient smoke cloud thieves the mood
In one small stroke
Of my feathered ink pen
I could sign away the future
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:15 PM UTC
Gravity is precious
The air we breathe is wine
If you think the stars are joking, you’ve already lost your mind
Brave child
Why are you all-a-weep?
The huntress shall return
Meek and mild
I know you watch me sleep
Cities are gonna burn
But what a careless thought
Such a crown of thorns
When we all can be sold and bought
We’ll hear the bell that warns
Gonna March right outta this town
To the woods
To the thicket
To the marsh
To the groves
Gonna live underground
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC
Blue agate in my soul
Crushed to pieces
By jaded crows
They gain strength by wrecking me
My body
Made of feathers of the softest, most delicate kind
My memory
Made of fire that would burn a thousand men
But still I am weak
But still I cannot cry
And yet I can speak
Be still you wicked lie
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:05 PM UTC
Sacred writing on the bathroom wall
Makes me think of brighter days
Of Summer then Fall
Kitchen blessings by tweeting birds
As I wake up from my slumbering state
Daughters in the hallway
Singing praises to the cat
When will the daisies show-up to make the daffodils smile?
All this I hold dear to my heart
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:04 PM UTC
The whole earth
Is drenched in pearls
That glisten
Like the glitter on a winged cherub
The universe, in its entirety
Is bathed in a ritual bath
Of waters that are blessed by mothers
The space I now occupy Is covered
In the vines of a grassy bungalow
Cursed with graces from Golden Times
Utopia is real
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:01 PM UTC
Lower my head
brighten my eyes
and then it feels right
and I start to drive
and I drive
and I thrive
on wicked skies
unfolding
even these delicate cruelties
these beings
occupy space
and my blue denim eyes
see your neon
displaced
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 8:59 PM UTC
Today I was made of gold & silver
Each hair strand was pure UV light
Gracefully sublime
A pyramid-shaped treasure implied
And it was lyrical
When I was feeling like this and like that
It had a ripple effect on my spine
My skin felt pleasantly warm
And fine
Like after bathing and dancing
In star-crossed crystal canyons
I felt small and significant
All in the same
I could walk right up to the painted sun
the peach-peach
the vellum
And I knew I could save him
With all the diamond tears
I had collected
In my apron
Believing we could both be made
Of the same wavelength
The same endearing fire
The same sovereign echo of a heart beat
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 8:53 PM UTC
Black water, still water, cold water
An Ophelia in male form
When you came that day
White as marble, but soft as snow
I think a little part of me died
I know a little piece of me broke
36 hours of waiting, watching the clock creep
Poking and prodding, my body an open map
Who would have thought that that which had nourished you would have almost been your demise?
The human body is strong, but the human body is fragile
And so we found out that day when we got to meet our Pegasus with broken wings
Our little almost-ghost
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 6:18 PM UTC
Can you recall
The death of an orchard
In times
Of vacant thought trapeze?
It’s like breathing-in
A fractured landscape
Whilst sipping tea
With the vanilla beast
Of your dreams
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 6:12 PM UTC