My mother is growing old, and beautiful.
My father once tried to grow a beard, it was grey.
My sister has just started standing up for herself.
And I... well... I miss you, I guess.

now the day is done:
gone all the song-masters
and dream-makers;
and now, I am alone
by your side.

Sometimes, you escape me
and then this giant stride
straight into my heart;

Ceaseless in waves.

Love scattered across your forehead
like stars flickering over
the eastern sky:

Is it your hair that flits
across your smile in the breeze?

Senora, the swallows have been
shot like a bow and they
go screeching over the horizon
echoing in the distance;

Let me hold your hand and
site by your side like this:
scarce these quiet hours
that mull like the blue moon
in the hours before dawn.

Don't fall in love with a writer.
A writer will take you to worlds unknown and you will get lost.
Don't fall in love with a poet.
A poet will construct stanzas of love and heartbreak,
Leaving you desperate for words unfathomable.
Don't fall in love with an artist.
An artist will paint you into their realm of never ending paintbrush strokes where love is just another color on a canvas,
Just like sadness.
Don't fall in love with her,
She is a mindless soul wandering the halls of heartache.
Don't look at her,
Her eyes will pull you deeper into the gold flakes that encircle her pupils like stars surrounding a black hole.
Don't fall in love with her touch,
Fragile fingers tracing patterns over your skin like a delicate knife cutting you open to create flesh wounds never to heal.
Don't fall in love with her body,
Captivating you with her honey drizzled hips,
Nectar inducing lips,
Taunting you as she strips.
Your skin is like fire,
Burning flames dancing and mingling with just a fleeting touch of her beauty.
Don't fall in love with her,
But,
You already have.

Tonight,

I looked at the stars like I do every night,

and I cried.

because this time,

I remembered

that some of them are dead.

and I realised

just how envious I was,

that I was not as beautiful as a star,

even though,

I too,

was still there.

yet also

so

very

dead.

Diablo is back.

"I will devour your being," he says to me, taunting.
It's so easy for him now. Now that night is falling.
Eternity with me a vow he gives me as he's grinning.

And again I wonder how to stop myself from falling
Back into the pits of hell wherein before you I was living
Because it's not exactly what most would have you believing.

It's not as they say "seas of molten copper and fire"
Oftentimes it's a mere lack of reason or desire
To keep going and instead a nagging feeling to expire
As if clothed with a massive dense leaden attire
As if Yahweh himself has yielded to tire.

But the facade often lies to show nothing is dire.

Even with insects--
some can sing,
some can't.