I spit the moon, a fingernail,
in the black eye of night.

Stardust was born
from the dirt of a lifetime.

I had the universe at my fingertips,
and blew it away like a kiss.

The world is a better place for my loss.

Frostbite fingertips, chilly they are,
Far more appealing than the faraway stars.
That's why my eyes turn to you during winter night,
Your frostbite fingertips, caressing my cheek are light.

Just as dreams are for dreamers, love is for lovers,
And that passionate feeling around us hovers.
Others doubt, but the stars above know,
When compared to our passion, dim is their glow.

Your fingertips, cold on this snowy night,
Rejuvenate me and emblazon my life with light.
If hypothermia were to claim me now,
I hope others wouldn't long ponder how.

I'll lose myself in you any day of the year,
Even during winter, you resolve my fear.

I could make out familiar shapes in the darkened single room apartment.
A thin bar of flashing neon red came in through the minor separation in the resin stained curtains.
I secured the door with the cheap throw latch and the thin chain.
She heard the click then spoke from deep within the darkness.
"Is it locked?"she asked, even though she knew it was.
"Yea" I answered knowing that she needed to hear me say it in order to calm the  madness in her head.
I switched on a shadeless lamp as she nodded her head and mumbled something to the demons who lived inside of her.
She sat cross legged on the neatly made bed  picking bits of  lint off the folded pink comforter while humming a song I had never heard.
I looked her over before she had a chance to turn the lights back out like she always did.
Her bangs hung over her deep pocket eyes and her nails had all been bitten down to the flesh.
It looked like she had dyed the tips of her hair a greenish blue color.
She had one of my old Black Flag T-shirts on and baggy black sweat pants. Her light brown almost amber eyes were blood shot.
  Her blinks were slow almost robotic and she had a fresh light scratch across her chin.
She looked good compared to the last time I had seen her.
  I moved carefully across the room toward the tiny kitchen and switched on  the light.
The single bare bulb flickered itself to life as the cockroaches all fled and vanished like magic.  
  I heard her move from the bed to the door as she checked the lock.
Then click off the lamp before her hurried footsteps took her back toward the safety of her bed.
  I left the honey bun and the beef jerky on the counter where I knew she'd find it later on when she was hungry. I stopped and took a Tupperware bowl from the cupboard and placed it over the snacks to keep the roaches away.
  She had  stopped eating in front of me over a year ago.
Right around the time she made me move out.
  I found some ice cubes in her empty freezer and came back out carrying the ***** and a plastic cup.
I topped off the cup and took a moment to let the ice melt.
I swirled the cup in a clockwise motion and tried not to stare at her.
I took a swig  before handing it to her.
She took the cup in both hands without ever looking up.
She slurped her drink and released a tiny gasp as the fire burned down into her gut.
  I sat down  on the edge of the bed and waited for her to come around  like I always did.
I  leaned in toward the 13' black and white TV she never  watched and turned it on.
The television  played only static    I noticed there was no cable or rabbit Ears attached to it then wondered if there ever had been.
  I flipped through the static covered channels until  she said
"Leave it there". So I did.
  I leaned back on my elbows  and felt her hand rest on my shoulder.
I carefully placed my own hand on top of hers, she almost pulled away as I did so.
But something deep beneath  the madness that had taken her away from me stopped her. She gently stroked my hand with her thumb.
I couldn't help but grip hers a little tighter all in hopes of maybe in some way bringing her back from that child like state she had fallen into almost 2 years ago now.
There we sat almost  holding hands like the way we used to do.
Both of us staring at the static littered TV screen.  
All was silent all except for that sound of her humming that song I couldn't recognize and the static from the television she never watched.
The static that filled the air with that timeless white noise of confusion.

Thine leaves art wilted, flying to and fro,
And thy limbs reach out as if in sorrow.
"Dost thou not remember what once was held?”
Thy branches crack whilst leaves into dance meld.
The moon doth rise as children’s laughter rings.
Through the night thy old hollow solemnly sings
Of twisted grins and melancholy wolf cries,
And how every man thee meet sadly dies.
But thy eternal heartbreak shall not wane
Thy every breath will be met with pure pain;
Death shall not return thee to its icy grip.
Forevermore, thou shalt bring people to Death.
Until the rope that hangs on thine branch cease,
Cursed to be known only as The Hanging Tree.

once upon a time
there was
a circle

and it drummed
and it
strummed

and the lump
in
my
throat
the size of a tyrant's
fist
dissolved
into
a pure
white light feeling

and i was a

person

a part of something
not apart
not asunder  
a heartspace coming coming

a star starring

afar
in the distance
guiding my lost feet toward
an oasis
that actually

is

a new start an art of being dreaming awake made

for you

a land of yay to hold in the palm of your hand and
a vibrating tone
resonates in that numb sternum
a tone that
lay
one
shade
away
from the ten thousand and ten whites of the first light
ever lit

Her womb receiving you
again