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Brother moon,
do we dream the same dreams
in the valley of black sheep?
My lovers eyes are the size of you
and I yearn only to sleep.
Beneath the freckled sky, be easy,
forgotten, you and I.
Brother moon,
do you weep for sister sun
the way I weep for you?
Can children still on Earth a'run
when you cast your soul's great blue?
Brother moon
will you take me, come afternoon?
To my house of lonesome joy
Brother moon,
do you dream my dream?
Or are you just another boy?
Oh, brother, soon.
In winter you can look and look around
but still, as every man has found,
there is no rose.
Girls of calm and February lies
spring and warmth's beginnings.
Always right and sweet and wise
steal the pleasures of living.
When all has been promised as forever
how am I to refrain?
But then as soon as ruby leaves dissevered
he left me miseries, left me rain.
For roses bloom on ****** skin
not on skulls accused of
sin.
If Summer were not but a season
and instead a man.
I would beckon him closer,
put myself in his hands.
We would walk slow
silent as happiness
and from me, would grow
a terrible little sprig of tenderness.
Feel his radiance right up in my bones,
lay under that sweltering shadow.
Only, come Autumn, to feel so alone.
Little girl wants someone to hold her.
young thing
lays upon her own shoulder.
The room smells of french perfume
and she strings and ties
herself into a loom.
Fastened,
fasts for days
faster, faster waves.
There's bloodstains. Bloodstains on the carpet!
Now paint drains,
from her skin,
how pretty, pale and thin.
She worships her shut eye visions,
forms a new kind of religion.
Creates her own voided world,
glides away, funny, white sails unfurled.
Something follow, truer and true
a whole to hold onto,
a hole to fall into.
All this time I've been keeping my mind on running waves,
screaming over oceans much bigger
higher and louder than my love.
Pulling out of my cards; Jacks and Knaves.
Happiness is not you
it is not addiction,
maybes and days of soon.
Depth holding me is comfort
so is awaking at noon.
But it's not honest,
it is a life, untrue.
To the girl that I am
and the wind now blows through.
Gone from your shores,
alone on an island of myself.
No desire for more.
I am province, I am proof
that growth is blue.
Love is not to abuse,
and happiness is not you.
You leant up against the wall
and grinned
a grin so deafening.
Child, then boy, followed by a man
all false reckoning.
The problem and the solution
to much of my delusion.
A lamp off in the coldest nights,
and a monster holding me, loving and tight.
I laid a hand upon the wall
to touch your nuance,
your distance; beckoning ever on.
There you stood, indistinct,
a heaving storm
gone with a blink.
she remains anon Dec 2018
He was a morning lullaby,
and I, a sleepless night.
So, lay in my bed hypnotized
dying and all right.
Down in the lawn
early dew,
I lean against the steady pecan.
Walk, but never follow through.
Silken sheets
and rosy eyes
I am a set piece
in a house of lies.
Sometimes, think I've up and died
at the waking shore.
Yes, he be a morning lullaby,
come to sing once more.
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