106

The Daisy follows soft the Sun—
And when his golden walk is done—
Sits shyly at his feet—
He—waking—finds the flower there—
Wherefore—Marauder—art thou here?
Because, Sir, love is sweet!

We are the Flower—Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline—
We nearer steal to Thee!
Enamored of the parting West—
The peace—the flight—the Amethyst—
Night’s possibility!

Thinking of those days
That once were happy and bright
So sad—they are gone...

-M.H.-

What is pink? a rose is pink
By a fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro'.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? Why, an orange,
Just an orange!

I am suffocating.
The elephant in the room is breathing all the oxygen
and my lungs have become too weak to function anymore.
The tiles of my veins are cracked upon the impact
of your expectations falling on my shoulders.
I am no soldier.

I've been drafted into a war I didn't sign up for..
I guess this is another civil war,
and I wish, oh god I wish I could be civil
in a house with no chivalry.
It's only consequential severity
of your actions and reactions
even when you take no action at all.

I am not your verbatim bully.
You will not be the hands that turn my time.
Not anymore, not this time.
I'm done choking on the tongue
I spend my days biting.

Your words are like razor blades
calling for my wrists again.
No, not again.
No, never again.

The war will end.
I will unleash every amount of ammunition I have
onto your doorstep.
Death and me have the same address.
My wrath will end you-
and subsequently me too.

Some heavens ago
I loved you 'til I dropped
On my knees in the bathroom
(Hands chaining my head to the floor,
Body detaining my soaring heart)
And questioned reality,
Wagged my jammed forefinger
At the face of an ungodly god
For permitting my lust for you,
The sin smelling of musty sweat
And fake baking soda
To hide that unsure scent around me—
My primal instincts call your bluff
And I raise myself once more
To hunt for your wild soul,
The game hot and weary
But mortally necessary.
With eyes unsheathed you
Stand aloof—
I'm aiming right at your heart.