I will destroy you
In the most beautiful
Way possible
And when I leave
You will finally understand
Why storms
Are named after people

If she gathers enough sticks,
she'll be able to get the fire going real nice;
enough to see her hand
in front of her face for a change.

She's been scratching around in the dark,
wide-eyed and ravenous,
feeling the ground for wood
for what seems like hours.

Her fingers start to blister and sting
from the friction and the grinding
of her begging and pleading
for just one measly spark.

It's been like this since that day
when everything was still pretty nice
in her podunk town where she
was known as the black sheep.

That day, that day, in late April,
when she raised her hand up
stuck out her thumb and
blotted out the sun.

She woke up with dirt under her nails
and pulled a lock of hair out
that was starting to mat.
She went to sleep with dirt under her nails.

She went to sleep hungry
and now she chews on anything that moves
in the umbra that couldn't be too far
from where she used to live.

Dead leaf blankets-
"Are the trees still alive?
What did the forest smell like,
sound like, at high noon?"

"What were colors?
Light-lovers and their shrieking tears
filled with nostalgic longing for
magical, pretty un-black; privileges".

Sanctum in the murk.
She walks tonight, but not far.
"I am the mother of the moth,
and the sudden ritenuto".


) o ( ●

I once knew a man,
his name was Grant.
Grant had everything,
it was all in the palm of his hand,
until he threw it all away.
It wasn't for nothing,
it was for the only fatherly figure in his life,
it was for a girl,
and it was for what he thought was the best.
Once the girl found the truth,
she hated him.
The truth always hurts the most,
which lead her to wonder:
Grant, who are you, really?

you have eyes
you have a sight
but you didn't see

you have a mouth
you have a voice
but you didn't speak

you have ears
you could hear
but you didn't understand

you have a head
you have a brain
but you didn't think

you have a heart
you could feel
but you didn't let it beat
not even a little bit, not even at all




(samber)