Somewhere way down a long line of cars and roads on the opposite end of broken down gas station near a bedside tavern.
You were lost near a bushel of birds.
That chirped when you walked by.

And there was a cloud directly above you,
white.
Puffy.
Lost in the blue blue sky.
Only it wasn't.
It was shading you from the sun.

And you walked under an oak tree with a knothole in it.
Whispered your dreams in to it's trunk and walked away.
An apple fell from an oak tree.

Somewhere along the way you stumbled over the curb and forgave it for bloodying your elbow. The sunlight kissed your skin and suddenly there was nothing.
Like superman,
the sun made you strong.

And the radiance of yourself by the river as the logs drifted on.
Moon sparkle and bathe.
There was purity.
There were answers.

So said the squirrels as they squeaked about you in the branches.
I had another cigarette and forgot all about it.
-P.S.

What was mysterious, was also the answer. The silence of lights with no hum. No electricity to bind me to the beauty of its glow. Where the eyes of heaven were above me in the dark. And it was radiance from glory.

2. He took his hands from his eyes and wiped away the tears. The droplets sprinkled a canvas of black. His fingers spread the maroon of a soul. And the portrait grew, it was birthed in blackness. But this canvas turned to light, and this light burned to sun.

3. I saw through the eyes of an angel, through the eyes of a lover and a thief. Angels cried bullets made of stars from above and the thief stole the heart of his love.

4. What would the world away from life be like. To be quiet and still for the moment. The sun over mountains with no distractions for miles and the moon could be heard from below. In the time that the wind would traverse the plain, the stars would have all done the same.

5. I could see no love above the lost. I could see no hate or disgust. The simple problems were missing here. The solutions were all mysteries but everything was figured.
-P.S.

Gone tomorrow,
Restless puddles that ripple and borrow.
Stealing glances from pedestrian feet,
Children jumping through fire in the street.
Through broken windows and through coldest ice,
Taught to be naughty, wrong to be nice.

All the kids on the roof, the ones with their laces,
Tied to the gutters with upside down faces.
Moving past shadows that cling to the wall,
Racing toward madness to bring forth the fall.
And here in the kitchen, the bathroom, the bed,
The blood was so fresh and so thick and her head,
It sat in the corner of a long lost regret,
While the kids played with guns to try and forget.

Mother open your doors, don't leave them locked.
It's zero hour now and the rifles are cocked.
Here we breath revolution through the soles of our shoes,
Our broken hearts welded, it's time to make do.
We came with our bullets, we'll leave with our blood,
We'll walk through the doors without a slam or a thud.
-P.S.

It's been so long, darling sky at night. That my eye has caught your grace. It's been decades in a corroded brain, through cavernous fractures of a rattled skull. That the issue of your depth has been discussed. Oh starry night, that the fingertips point. That the dim and the bright would be settling tonight. And it's been a long time since I let myself in to your pull. That I glossed my eyes over with reflections of you. And in regret I'm here. Looking at you, my dear. Remembering that face on the moon once more. In the comets as the star shine hits the shore. Somewhere in that infinity, I lost my eyes to god.

I sat on a beach and spoke hard dreams and sunsets.
In my eyes the glare of a rebel sun ray.
And my hands were on fire.
Underneath the sand there were murmurs.
Distant prayers and hopeful mumbles of a society of mad men forever counting grains and pebbles.
-P.S.

But the splendor of light reflected from the dew drops.
Eyes like the nebula in heaven that gave you your first breaths.

Some nights I wonder what machinations lie in the vast valley from your neck to your legs.
What fragile barriers between you and the bliss of fingertips leaving craters from goosebumps.

And my palm lit your skin like Hiroshima.
We were lost in the nuclear hollocaust of hearts.

I fought the thought of you making me sober.
-P.S.