there's a fire on the treetops
that burns a yearning glow
projecting sounds of tremendous whirls
as it passes through the windows we left open.

just ahead, beyond these sights and sounds,
sits a peak, between here and the horizon,
where birds curiously soar
above this thing i've come to love.

these middle thing reek of sights and sounds i've not yet seen.
they sit silent, hidden, beyond the peak;
In the ashes of the burning trees.
this i know too well.

But I want to know those things,
I want to hear the whistle of wet wood
and the wings above my mountains peak;
to know a new horizon and

and feel new ground beneath my feet.

Our lampshades at midnight shine like amber moonlight,
like late august and amethyst; brief pulses of electric-cotton bliss.

They brand our bodies like ***** poppies
in the newest blue before the sunrise.

Dear, lay still as we shelter inside this warmth
Stay silent through the night, lest you need to speak.

If so, then whisper with your palms cupped 'round my skull
So i may feel your syllable kisses dance past the hair of my ear

To feel and know that this not be a dream

sunlight hits the pillow,
and the whole world shudders,
a breathe gets caught
and it fights to just exist

a hand reaches out,
warmth blooms all over the bedsheets,
the sun rays begin their dance
and the tears are absent

shouts and efflorescence,
a cacophonous impressionistic painting,
heavy steps filled with grace
one wrong turn and you fall

fall,
fall,
fall,

your legs betray you,
blood begins to spill from the open wounds,
it is true that a ton of feathers
is just as heavy as a ton of bricks

but a hand props itself,
the ocean rises and waves hit the shore,
fishermen hide their boats
a storm is yet to begin

and you fly,
with your broken wings,
and lilac bruises
and a heart that refuses to surrender

golden particles twirl high up to the sky,
the clouds begin to part,
and you as well
will you disappear

though as it starts pouring,
everything falls into place,
flowers need the downpour
in order to survive

yet sometimes it’s easier to fall asleep
let the body hit the mattress,
greatness is binding
but the cosmos won’t stop existing without you

so let your head clear,
and disappear for a while.

One thousands blades covered the uninhabitable fields,
The blood soaked grounds coated in crimson-red,
Malevolent spirits rose up from the ground without yield,
Violent thoughts and weapons born from those very dead.

Defiant screams filled the frigid night sky,
Their wasted souls seeking death and revenge,
Living souls ****** and left to rot and die,
This ritual cleansing was that on which their vengeance would hinge.

Night fall.