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I let night swallow
me whole;
a strange solace
in the waning of my soul,
my tattered form lying
beneath the crimson glow
of the blood moon.

Blind to it's lunar
light, the colors
of the lonesome night
-lost on my eyes
as the shadows whisper
through the parting
of my lips
words without meaning,
and apathy resigns
me to idle

©Nathan A. Brock
  Nov 11 Nightwolf
Native Sun
                              And chocolate chip, cookie skin.
                              Hands that touch my face!
                       ­       Freckles.
                                                ­          Inherited Sin.                        
       ­                Alcoholic Mood changes
                       And endless clichés;
       I want to worship her idol
            And walk in her temple and pray!

                             Make her moan.
                             Hear it?
                             In the grass,
                             In my future,
                             Touch me.
                             Near it.
                             Earth; Shake,
                             Explode; Mind!
                             The Fantasy,
                             The Novel!
                             The Portrait,
                             The Model!
                              But­ lately, all I've done is visit.
                              Her dreams.
                    ­          Expectations.
                              I missed it.
                              While slumming jaded avenues
                              With Fear and Misfit.
  Oct 28 Nightwolf
Li Ching Chao
To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream"

Let not the deep cup be filled
with rich, amber-colored wine;
My mind was eased of sorrow
even before I was drunk.
Distant bells have already echoed
in the evening breeze.

My dream is broken
as the scent of incense vanishes.
Too small, the hairpin of the gold
of warding-off-cold
loosens its hold of my tresses.

I awake to find myself blankly facing
the red flickering glow
of the candle.
  Oct 12 Nightwolf
Linger long enough
and I'll join you under
the sagging porch roof,
beneath a night that
whispers softly
to fill the hours before
daylight wanders in
for the morning shift.
I'll rock myself to sleep
in the old bentwood,
and you'll drift off, too,
before Orion has a chance
to say hello
or goodnight,
but he won't hold it against you.
And I'll be gone when you wake up,
but linger long enough
and I may just come back again
to sit for a spell
beneath the universe,
on top of the world,
in the old bentwood.
Not entirely sure who or what "I" is. I guess I'll leave that up to you.
Nightwolf Oct 12
I only need a
little alcohol
to grant me the
courage to sob
over the things
I'll never
have the
to do.
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