A sky invades itself the way lampshades collapse on their elegant red bulbs.
Lovely antique fabrics wrap themselves around heat-waves copulating with light.
The color of blood melts down a rose petal in celestial gardens.
A certain shade of burgundy supports a flower dive!
Liquid falls into the curtain folds of this cranberry swaying pageantry.

She has a shaved head
that reminds me of a
crooked-smile-ex;
that choked on cigarettes
and words too contrived,
painted in a negligence
for humanity and a
belief in uninformed
nothingness.

Her body curves like
backroads I've been lost in.
Skin as pale as an eggshell,
I'd imagine she'd shatter
under the olive robe
she calls a dress
and bounce under the
kickstep of organic flats.

Eventually she will become
too much of an idea, she will
evolve into a misogynistic
poem, and if I were
to imagine her naked,
guilt would flood our fleshly-
alcohol-stained-continents,
angry between every slur,
loving between the shadows
of phantoms I once knew.

The satin flesh of her thighs
I watched them drape over me softly
With sweat dripping down each leg
Into beads of transparency exploding over the ankles!

Two lovers waited
They blew kisses through windows
They met under stars

Rebel romantics
Against their parent’s wishes
Let their kisses guide

I house thunder inside of these bones.
I contain lightning inside my heart.
I contain raindrops in my veins.

I am the storm.

But, do not worry dear plebeians, I do not strike on dark days of gray,
Only on dark days of pain.

I pour down on the suffering, to wash away all of their troubles.
And I'd rather have a lifetime of saving rain than a constantly-glowing sun.

Because the Sun is just too dim compared to the fire that burns inside of me.

I used to have it all.

My throne that I sat high upon was my whole world.

I ruled my golden kingdom with such extravagance unseen by most living beings.

I ruled with my bloodline,

So close.
So strong.
Everlasting.

And one day, it was all taken from me.
Everything I had, gone.

I was defeated,
Despaired.
And left for dead.

And now, someone else sits fixated on my throne.

He wears my crown that I worked so hard to craft.

My crown I crafted from blood, sweat, tears, and pain.

To me, it's the crown jewel.
To him, it's nothing more than a dunce cap.

He is a nothing king trying to be everything I was.

But he needs to realize,

Thrones were only ever built for one.

O pure Sagittarius in light-blue dressed
Your outfit hugs kindly those delicate *******:
water-flowers the moon sprinkled down on your chest
On a sky-pillow your neck how gently it rests

Cloud of porcelain-white asleep in your perfume
The life you breathe into it a slumberous tune
Disrupts a cluster of stars happily may they resume
a ring of memories alive and with us soon

I either write when I'm in love or in pain.

So call me the constant writer.

But be not afraid when you see my poems drenched in blood,

For they are all like that.

Because I only write when I'm in love or in pain,

And for me those are the same.