there seems to be
a strong preference
among the hottest, most feverish poems on here
for ones where the first line
is less than six syllables

The moon knows
when to appear
the cloud flows
when the wind is near.

Sometimes,

Runny mascara is needed
To clean off your face
Define your own tears
And they'll never go to waste

I wish you could see this,
That silence is a perfect circle.

Listless little flecks
Lazily wander down to
Rest on the ground -
They blanket an earth
That sleeps for now.
Dreams of fireflies and
Bright, blue open skies
Pass the time until roots
Take soil and come alive.

I watch the clouds slip past
In the reflections they cast;
The scattered about puddles
Stretch for miles and miles.

And aren’t we all? Reflections
Of the experiences we bear;
All scattered about time,
And stretching across years.