there's green all throughout
the silver droplets,
coiling about the warmth
of powder-blues and roaring magentas.

there's green all throughout
the golden threads,
winding around the jubilee
of cream-whites and vibrant citrines.

there's green all throughout
the copper clays,
swirling between the renewal
of xantic petals and extatic lilacs.

there's green all throughout
the joyous weeping
of spring.

I need the rain.

Hard,
broken,
dessicated limbs hang
low and heavy
like twin pendulums
of shattered lead.

I need the storm

Cold,
cracking,
drained roots coil
notted and gnarled
like a cage
of sun bleached bone.

I need the flood.

Dark,
engulfing,
suffocated leaves wither
rusted and dying
like an endlessness
of time-ground sand.

I need the void.

You break your back
To plow fertile their
Squalid earth.

You sweat
under the wailing sun,
Beneath their barbed wire
Whips.

You give your flesh
To satiate their hunger.

And what do you get in return?

A place for your head.

The chopping block.

it comes and
goes,
one way or
another,
from high to
low.

Life tests you in ways unimaginable
to one whom has never lived
outside the palace of shimmering glass,
unclothed in mist-soft silks,
unwarmed by gourmet delights.

unfathomable.

those highs and lows
of life.

to all but they whom have struggled
to find warmth,
to quench thirst,
to fill heart and belly.

incomprehensible.

Sheep don't know
The meaning of the word
Rules.

They know only the barking of the dog
And the howl of the wolf.

There's beauty in sorrow,
if you don't let it grind you down.

I wanted freedom,
But I have been trapped
Between a rotting lemon
And a hard place
For my bones of glass
To bask in the sun.

There's beauty in sorrow,
if you don't let it grind you down.

I wanted shelter
From the acid rains
That came spitting out
Of their ignoble mouths,
Pattering upon my rind
And souring the lemonade.

There's beauty in sorrow,
if you don't let them grind you down.

I wanted love,
But there wasn't any rainbow
At the end of that
Cursed *** of gold
They're all chasing feverishly.

There's beauty in sorrow,
I tell myself, lying as I see nothing else.

Ice is cracking
Under the immense
And unforgiving
Weight of lead skies.

The world is falling,
Plunged into
The vast and punishing
Waters below.

Her lips dissolving
With the cosmic
And unwavering
Chill of the void.

A last breath reverberating
Below the colossal
And vengeful echoing
Of a final word.

Uttered in mourning
Of a momentary
And fragile
Life.