There is no poet alive
who can relate to us the distance
of each falling, passing star.

Let me be your cartographer
The first and last explorer
To map your curves

Let me paint sunsets
Across your body
With the colors of love

Let me be your companion
I'd travel the world with you
To watch it take your breath away

For those of care.
Of care.

Have you ever heard
An ambulance crew's

Member talk a brittle little   
Old lady into a

Young, confident
One?

You should see
Those eyes awaken

With living fire; so unlike
Those

That made us
Call.

They asked me if
I'd ever done drugs.
And I told them about
Your eyes.

oh, and the bitterness
taints my toungue
and blurs my eyes

all i see, all i see
is happiness
but
not for me, not for me

and the dark inches
ever closer,  
a low growling ravenous
thing

wanting me, needing me
to sucumb, to sucumb

where has my sunshine gone.
in this bleak, drear season.
it is gone, it is gone.

and i am a lonely figure
in a crowded place
and i am desperation
running a losing race
and i am weary to the core
bruised abraided red raw.

but still i stand,
what else can one do
it is after all,
what life demands.