A drop of sunshine
i sneak glances when i know not to look
for one glance would leave me blind
and broken behind the nook

A drop of moonlight
i search for light, in vain by clouds
you're as hidden as a winter night
and as far away as the wind allows

A spark of darkness
i light up only to have you fade out
silence suffices one to harken
and i hear nothing in her shout

I will take you to the moon, my love
We can sit and watch the stars, my love
Cosmic winds blow by our face, my love
We can watch the world collapse, my love

Can you see the rays of sunshine
Peeping through your fingertips
It's seeping into your eyelids
When you're lying on the concrete

Can you feel the fresh air blowing
Caressing your salty sweat
Its breezing by your shoulders
When you're there by the bridge

Can you smell the newly dead leaves
Scattering on the silken grass
It reaches deep within you
Touching a familiar past

Can you see your little girl now
As you’re running to the creek
While decade old sun’s resting
And the finches sing melodies

Here on the beach, I realize the sand sticks to you more than people;
Broken eggshells, grains of pepper, some rocks all dissolved.
And a mouthful of salt to top it all off
I'm seasoned for life

A monitor sight fixed on a scene
as they talk and talk away
my eyes scan mumbles, shoulders, hair screen
as I had nothing to say

I'm shrouded by a heat blanket
that I got when I broke both legs
I fixed it on another planet
and then I wished to be in bed

My camera's offscreen stuck offstage
while my mind roams the empty rooms
but blindness causes people rage
because all they see are tombs

The word's they echo off my mind
but I'm too far away to respond
mindfulness isn't always kind
and they'd rather I be fond

Once again I am lying
face down and lying
about whether I am truly crying
inside my heart that is dying

You're probably there and only smiling
not knowing what you're inspiring
as if you love my rhyming
not like you deserve a whining

I must convince her it is not normal
that this behavior is much informal
that it will only lead to her journal
being filled with feelings most immoral

Starry-eyed child listen
I know you hymn to his whistlin'
but don't believe in his fiction
even if he's your prison

Yet I only flock to your mock
After all, it's only small talk
but way past 12 O'clock
about your mind being stalk

A faint green glow keeps me awake
keeps me hoping for your daybreak
but all I receive is light ache
as midnight fails to reciprocate

When I traverse the lowest valleys
and climb the highest peaks
I break forth my journal
my pencil and I feel

In the dark, it lights a path
in the light, it bursts the dark
though I must admit I write the most
when I'm in the dumps

I spit onto pages
venomous oceans of blue and black ink
in life, I've no way of reaching him
or is it for a person, a concept, or a thing?

Will pretty eyes mind poetry?
Or is that something misperceived?
Am I only screaming at dead trees
for the rest of my life; for eternity?