In your eyes I saw the power to sow my own destruction
So I looked away trying not to memorize the exact placements of your tattoos
Or all the freckles that you’re made of
But I wasn’t quick enough and now your entire body is etched permanently into my mind
In that space that doesn’t allow love
To be held
And as I remind myself that great *** does not equal great love,
But that great love always equals great pain,
I know that great wars were started under the guise that it does

My slumber is restless and tortured by endless rivers of flowing words that pour from my mind and run down my cheeks. I have visions shattered with red eyes - succubus' dreams and deep despairs of forgotten lovers. I have all the normal layers of womanhood but my widened, blank eyes stare on into darkness. My mind is plagued by dreams of ghoulish figures and dansing devils. I feel enigmatic and cursed, like a banshee roaring through the mind of a mad man. I have only sexuality and insanity to feed my starving soul. There is a stellar gift bestowed upon me as I glance up to the heavens, as I am deep in the throws of my insomnia. I find comfort in this cosmic god that I swear only I can see. Everything around it becomes black at the sight of this glorious red gleam in the sky. Perfectly aligned and positioned in my window, a glimpse of my true home. The Rocky planet stares indifferently at me but with a faint vengeance in it's glare. The god of war scolds me for being weak and brings me visions of blood soaked angels come for my soul. I am unsure if this brutality will bring contentedness but at least it has rested the other bitter thoughts battling for a piece of my mind.

if yesterday
was your last tomorrow
what does that make today
while you are trying to decide
if you lived or died
your time is wasting away

Life is so funny, like a book, where you've read the last page, first. We all truly know the ending to our stories, as the only surety, death.

I'd rather be the moon
For she can be gazed upon
without the blinding pain of the suns' corona
She is noxious in the darkness
Autumnal,
cold and grievous
Hanging there heavily,
lush and languorous
Like the womb of the world,
she guides the ebb and flow of life
Selenic and motherly,
She is fertile and ever changing
Her surface is cratered with millennia of wear,
but she still glows beautifully, unaffected,
like a goddess of the night