His dog chased her
through the woods.
The rifle can **** from
three-hundred yards.

Watch her leap logs
and sidestep
sticks grabbing
at her shoulders.

There are three Gods
in the woods,
behind any tree.

No one is as ruled
as the lawless.
No one is as sedated
as the frenzied.

Sympathy couldn't be
measured in screams,
but measured
in her breaths.

Beyond the
honeydew horizon,
the senseless cease.
The half-life of eyes:
her only escape.

Where the tree-trunks
are furnished by the
candied corpses.
Her feet chomp at the
prostituted ground.

She will die, here,
whether she lives
or not.
For what is stolen,
stays.

He knew he was just living in my shadow
We came to see what the city of angels had for us, if we could make it..
The angels silenced to hear my voice
while they turned their back to him
the dream he had for both of us turned into a one way street
and he couldn't see any sign of a bright future for him.
So he packed his dreams into a guitar case and flew back to Texas in hopes he could rekindle the life he's always known.
And here I sit. My mind sees the stars on the ground but all my heart sees is him.
The desire to feel held started to feel heavier than the reward of prosperity.
I know Whitney fashioned rivers when I turned the record off but the sound of the applause couldn't possibly be as rewarding as the sound of his voice.

Good morning, my friend.
As we awake to another beautiful sunrise,
your eyes radiate the burning star of your soul and
shine upon the cold moon of my heart,
allowing you to see me as I truly am;
A simple mixture of water, rock and minerals,
working in perfect balance to float through the empty vacuum of this space.
Your light shines upon my imperfections,
laying them bare.
The warm glow of your rays has sprouted life
in this barren landscape.
I yearn for your gravitational pull.
If my inching towards you throws the solar system out of alignment,
then I will stay close by as we watch the planets collide and
the milky way melt into shooting stars,
nourishing the primitive life forms that grow inside me until a
new ecosystem sprouts from the combined forces of our energy.

Good morning, my friend.
Thank you for your sunshine.

But I was awake then,

wasn't I?

you see, you don't think I remember.
But I do.

there was sunlight-

the kind of sunlight
that filters through
inescapable particles of dust, no matter
how much
I hate
to be able to see myself breathing them in.
the kind of sunlight
that absolutely glares
up off of the oil
on the asphalt
in the evenings
and blinds you hysterically.
the kind of sunlight
that swiftly stills
your rattling skeleton
and begs you to stare
"But mother, only for a minute..."
the kind of sunlight
that makes me remember
my own unanswerable questions
about my subtle deterioration
my inevitable decline
into this utter chaos
that is myself.

and through this degradation, this decomposition, I realize
that I can't help but wonder:

when did these superfluous trees take root?

where were you when the first seed of doubt landed on the surface of my parched, withering mind?

and, my God, why on Earth did you let it rain?