Astronauts: float beyond my view.
Lovers: Say things that are not true.
But astronauts: they meant something to you.
So for me, they do too.

How lovely is the freckle upon the fire child,
How beautiful are these sun kisses.
What a summer that transpires under blue eyes,
What virtuous hands to clasp mine in camaraderie.
To all the sparks, the red heads, the gingers, the orange licks of heat:
Continue to burn, for it is amazing to see.

What a chill touch
Madame Morning has,
But what lovely chords struck by my muse: the robin, or, the effervescent chickadee!
And look, over by the birch tree,
A charcoal fox prances in dappled light,
While raven wing darts between a delicate line of sight.
What fervor portrayed in the trembling day!
What majesty!
How subtle is the music sung by broken silence,
How divine!
For within the beating chest of the Morn’ there lies a precious balance,
Between those that sleep, the precarious quiet, and-
The gentle sun, praising the awakened chickadee!
The brave amber breasted robin!
They sing for me amongst budding greens, and rest upon a window sill,
Reminding me once again:
Mine lady of the woods
has beauty wherever one may look!

When lonely, I wish for solitude
For I am alone most when with others.
The others with their wicked smiles and bloodied teeth-
The hidden malice underneath,
My friend has left for wild wolves
And I am the one to be culled.
Let me retreat to the outside,
Where silence pervades and my mind quiets.
Let me find solace in the wreckage of begotten riots
Riots against the carnivorous pack-
The midnight shadows residing in the back.
Leave me to be human in the dark
Leave me to hunt with you, though far apart.
Leave me to be alone
Let me dispel the lonely feast
Upon my tender demeanor, ever sweet
Consumed by the malicious extroverted beast.

Dropped an opportunity
It shattered against my concrete reality
It wasn’t my fault- it just slipped
The wind took it
God whispered a fire, and my hands were lit
Either way
I lost this
A fragment of my dreams
The golden prospect
The road to my future- cleaned, clear, and preened
Yet
Hope is glass
And to my dismay
It falls quite fast
it cracks
Before you can blink.

Blue eyed rogue
Child of the night
Macabre actor:
Dramaturgy is your life
I am but a shadow on this wall
Curious yellow eyes reflecting light in my skull
As I watch the people dance
You at the center of them all
Amazing the sheep
With a lions roar

Father, thank you for the liquor
The whiskey that tastes like my absent grandfathers candy
The hottest atomic fireball
Cinnamon and sweet, liquid sunburn to make my adulthood at 17 complete
Mother says I’m not allowed to become an alcoholic
And I won’t
Her baby girl knows how to survive a teetering edge-
She taught me how by pushing me to it
I promise mom
Dad calls me lazy, selfish and jokingly a lush
But I’ve never been those things
Despite what you think
Despite the dangerous flavor of a good drink

What do you want me to say
That I don’t like it?
That I haven’t tried
Beer, gin, champagne, whiskey, bourbon, wine and *****?
That my childhood was still a childhood when I never knew where I stood
Where any moment we could’ve been homeless
Where I could’ve lost my footing?
I was never allowed to live that dream
Ah me, I’ve struggled with poverty since I was 3
But you refuse to see.

No, mother, you can stay in the fantasy
I won’t burst your bubble
But me?
I’ll take my ****** reality,
and a sublime fire whiskey
On the rocks please

Mirror self, confidante
I speak to you as if my reflection could hold up to lengthy conversation
But you’re as fragile as I am
Gleaming glass, tempered with crying
I ask you once again
What did I do, to hurt you to where I cannot make amends
Reflection, I beg you
With your tear streaked face and ****** mistakes
The dark wisps of our hair to be our rotting frames
In ever many mirror eternities
How can I fix you
Repair myself
We are but fractured parts
Of something that may have been beautiful once
But with our shattered hearts, where do we go from here?

Blue blue eyes
Glacier like, that sky grey
And I’m aware of the cliche
Of that statement
But to be truthful it was the moment I noticed their color
That I was finally in your arms and my heart rate fluttered.

Over a year of twice a week
Swaying in place and shooting a furtive gaze
Trying to be unaware
Of how heavy the weight of the air sat on my chest.
All along, never did I notice, the favored subject of so many poets;
The blue blue eyes.

The fine cuts on my legs
Glisten faintly like distilled dew
Enchanted by the torture inflicted by you
Small red droplets hang off the lines
Like rain fall on spider silk
The color dark enough to remind me of things I’ve killed
Birds and squirrels and bugs too
But included are my feelings, and my past that I couldn’t let continue

The jagged yet graceful pain looks like cracks
On my fragile, human glass
Reminds me of my broken mind
Twitching, flinching, all the time
But it hurts, and it’s sublime
A grim reminder that I’m still alive

Delicate scars lace my shoulder
Thin marks bedeck my legs
Anywhere that I could decorate
Without being noticed by anyone other
Then my own regrets

Brusque and iron clad
Smile hidden within the layers of a nomad
Monumental hands, calloused, clasp Mine
Insignificant, delicate, small
And when they would twine together
My thumb would be stroked by a gentle finger
He’d hold the connection to his heart in silence
And I knew more then that grasp bound us

Mine eyes heavy
Twins aching in the skull
Indeed pretty
Yet of exhaustion they are full

Behold, a crow caw tears cold air,
ripping breezes to shreds tattered,
will Time **** her black bones fair?
He tries, but Her cries mattered.
Matters to whom, one can ask.
The Lady by her dim window unclear,
Using a clammy night for mask,
the docile heart, her beating, biding fear.
Ebony wings turn quietly…
Upon an evening dreary and sad,
fairest, My Crow, shrieks piercingly
and the Lady’s *****: glad.
For crow’s wails lament morbidly-
Screaming to and with the far too lonely.