She Shoots Me Towards 

the Reaches of the Atmosphere.

(narcotic)

She Bravely Descends Earthward 

from the Divine Empyreal. 

(superhero)

Not Unlike a Hypodermic Needle 

Piercing My Median Cubital Vein,

(narcotic)

She Flashes into My Heart 

in Scarcely Eight Seconds.

(superhero)

Besides Inducing Euphoria,

She Effectuates Toxicity;

(narcotic)

In Fewer than Ten Minutes, 

She Targets My Defenses.

(superhero)

She not only Provokes Peak High,

(narcotic)

She Destroys a Lifetime of Yearning.

(superhero)

She is My ******. (narcotic)

She is My Heroine. (superhero)

~ The Sharpie Poet

What Is More Youthful
Than Displaying One's Feelings?

When Sad,
Were Your Jowls Not Veined
With Tears As A Child;
When Mad,
Did You Not Resist
Tempering Your Wild?
When Glad,
You Couldn't Mask
That Expression, Beguiled.

Why Then, As Adults,
Do Emotions Have Ceilings?

~ The Sharpie Poet

D etermined To Eradicate His
    Antagonistic Psychosis, The Bane
    Of His Post-Last-War Existence, He
E mbarked On His Campaign, Less A
    Scripted Strategy, Less Armament,
    and Less Allies About His Flanks.
S he Not Only Emerged As His
    Struggle's Armistice, The Indefinite
    End To Combat, But Also As The
I mpetus Enlightening The Conflict's
    Necessity, Verified Justification, The
    "Casus Belli."
R elative To One Another,
    Omnipresent Memories Of Her
    Love And Realization Of His Valor
E mpowered Him To Accept Nothing
    Shy of Defeat From His Adversary,
    Traumatic Stress, For His Cause,
    A Forever With Her.

D arkness, Sin, An Omission Of Light;
E ach And All Awash In Black.
S inless Virtue Solely Expressed In White,
T hough Absence Of Colours Seems Unjust!
I f Only That Which Is Pure Is Depicted So,
N othing Of The Night Could One Trust...
Y et It's Not In Our Stars As Such!

~ The Sharpie Poet

You Are
Straining, Outstretched,
Grasping Skywards
To Capture Stars.  

I Am
The Grounded Foundation
Upon Which You've Mounted,
Your Step Ladder.

~The Sharpie Poet

In Silence,
Amethyst Eyes Betray Her
Confidence,
An Internal Struggle To Maintain
Semblance,
Her Need To Subdue Mounting
Impatience.
Powerless To Her Dark
Dependence,
Yet Seeking "Accessory" To Escape
Pestilence,
She's Rapidly Losing Suicidal
Impotence.
In Silence...

~ The Sharpie Poet

The boy is at it again, with his nose pressed against the glass.
I relate, for with each car noise outside, I get whiplash.

"When will she finally come home to us, Dad?" he said.
After a long seven months, this remains our routine before bed.

"My dearest Son, I'm afraid that chapter of our life has ended."
"Daddy, do you mean like you and Mommy have been unfriended?"

Caught off guard, I stumbled backwards but regained composure.
"You, lil' one, are a smart cookie.  Yes, I think her love for me is over..."

"Don't worry, Daddy.  In School, I learned if something is dead,
you just wait for a little.  Then, Mom's love can be resurrected!"

Stifling a grin while admiring his innocence, I refrained from being satirical.
"Lil' one, stuff like that doesn't happen everyday.  That'd be a miracle.

People wait their entire lives and never witness any, but I have- one."
"Daaaaad, you diiiiiid?"
"Yes, your Mom and I both did.  We had you, my Son!"

~ The Sharpie Poet