Moon in Scorpio.
Incurable somnolence.
Plutonian pranks.

Crowns embellished
with ebony bewitching.
A sliver of gold
pierces the veil.
Stalemate defined
by velveteen seas.
Eyes of steel incandescent
under the blacksmiths hands.
The finest sapphires inlaid.
A woman in hand
the mightiest of weapons.
Snowy mountains nourished
the victory of Man.
Gravid in mysticism
keeper of seeds
bloomed the Kings strength.

Petals of paper
for a stature svelte.
An opxum core.

Swindling willow
waltz upon a stage.
Tethered by the same roots.

A ***** moon,
an ascending tide.
Longing lovers without passports.

Army of emerald soldiers
seduced by ruby gypsies.
Ashen by a kiss.

Clumsy hearts vitrified -
never worn on sleeves.
Await a hummingbird.

You, me and my melancholy.
And nobody fxcks harder than her.

The person you meet
and who they end up being,
are never the same.

The town still drips
with last nights alcohol consumption,
effervescent with AWOL brain cells.
Romance viewed from the inside of a glass,
vanished in its absence.
Neon bar signs became the stargazing
of the twenty-first century
and hangovers a fast burning cigarette,
leaving romance to pile
in a duotone of grey
in the ashtray of our heartless society.

A man and wife go to lunch.
Premium burgers, shakes and fries.
It's cheap and he can wear his sweatpants.
For every one couple,
there's twenty single fathers
with his children.
(a depressing ratio)
It must be custody weekend.
At the Heartbreak Hotel
tables for two occupy singles.
The men picked out their best shirts
and the women painted their lips.
Looking only for a conversation,
they leave with a bill
priced with another Sunday
of shattered hope.